Newspaper Page Text
6 (916) T 11 *
J Wur tfoys
THANKS BE TO GOD.
Roaming in the meadow,
Ldttle four-year-old
Picks the starry daisies
With their hearts of gold:
Fills her snowy apron,
Fills ber dimpled hands,
Suddenly how quiet
In the grass she stands.
"Who made flowers so pretty,
Who put them here, did God?"
I, half heeding, answer
With a careless nod.
Dropping all her 'blossoms
With uplifted head,
Fervent face turned skyward,
"Thank you. God," she said.
?Unidentified.
THE TRIBE ON THE WAR PATH.
"Say, Chief, did you know that Miss Julia
Raymond is sick?" Tim Norman asked one Friday
afternoon as he and Teddy Lynde were going
home after early dismissal.
"Yes," the chief of the Maqpoketas replied.
"Mother has been going over there pretty often
lately. It's rheumatism."
Tim nodded. "Too bad! I wondered why
she wasn't planting her garden. She generally
has plants set out and seeds in the ground
long before any one else in town."
"Yes, that'8 so. Look here, F. B.! don't you
think hare'8 a job for the tribe?"
"F. B." was the abbreviation for "Fire
Drana, 11m s tribe name, given because of
the color of his hair.
"What do you mean?"
Ted talked rapidly for a few moments, in a
low tone, while Tim chuckled and nodded.
"The sun is more than four hours high," replied
Ted, solemnly, squinting at the sky.
"You go home and talk to your mother about
it, and I'll go talk to mine; and if they say we
may, give the signal for the tribe to gather in
the wigwam right off. That'll give the other
braves time to talk to their fathers, and get
the things they need."
"All right! Peace or war paint?"
Ted thought a moment, then answered:
"War paint. I guess we'll think it's war before
we get everything done that we've planned.
Good thing the pale-face woman's dog
knows the chief warrior of the tribe."
Tim emitted a most un-bravelike chuckle.
"So it is," he said. " 'Member the time he
grabbed Blue Heaton when he was trying to
steal the tirst ripe watermelon out of her garden?"
"I guess nobody in Benton will ever forget
thnt " orrinn?H 'IVH in rpnlv '' Sppvpfl him
o- *vv*> vrv
right, thougli. Idea of any fellow thinking of
.stealing Miss Julia's watermelons!"
Half an hour later, the echoes were awakened
by a long, wailing cry, supposed to be an
Indian war whoop. The sound caused many
persons to remark, in sympathy or disapproval:
"The tribe is gathering. Wonder what they're
up to now."
"Nothing very bad," Dr. Thorpe replied to
a nervous lady, whose voice suggested suspicion.
"They're pretty good little fellows,
most of them, and the rules of the tribe are so
strict that the mischievous ones don't dare dp
much that's out of the way, for fear of being
expelled."
Meanwhile, in the wigwam, Judge Lynde's
big barn; tlft p'oww'ow was in ffr'dgitesS. tfjj in
fKEBBYTKKlAN O F 1 H ? 8 1
and Girls
i i
i i
th<e haymow tthe hay had been piled at one side
to form a throne; and here sat the chief sachem,
the second sachem, the keeper of the picturewriting,
and the keeper of the wampum. In a
semi-circle facing these dignitaries were ranged
the solemn warriors of the tribe.
When all had assembled, the chief sachem
thus addressed his warriors:
"Braves of the Maquoketas, the paleface
whom we call Kind Heart is sick. Ye know her
good deeds, how she gives us flowers from her
garden and many good things to eat, and lets
us climb her trees and play ball in her lot.
Every brave knows, too, that she plants her
garden always in the first quarter of the moon
of bright nights. But now she is tormented by
an evil spirit, and can do nothing. What is the
will of the tribe t"
There was a brief pause, and the brave called
"Deerfoot" inquired:
"What can the tribe do, O Chief? For thou
hast well said that Kind Heart is our friend."
"The moon of bright nights is now round,"
the chief renlied solemnlv "and wa pan
work by its light. Is it the will of the tribe
that we spade Kind Heart's garden for herf
We must go softly, that she hear nothing, and
some light-footed brave must go in at the backdoor
of her wigwam and bring out the plants
already growing in little boxes there, that we
may set them in the beds of the garden."
The eyes of the braves sparkled, and their
mouths twitched; but they maintained the calm
that they considered becoming to warriors, and
answered with one voice, shrill and hearty,
''Tipf tho +Vi inrr Ko /iATIn "
"It is well," pronounced the chief, gravely.
"At the first call of the whippoorwill, gather
here with those implements called spades and
rakes, and we will prepare the garden of Kind
Heart. Afterward, we will water and tend it."
The braves voiced their approval in a wild
whoop, then scattered to the prosiac tasks that
waited them in their several homes. It must be
said that those tasks had been done with greater
zeal and regularity since splitting kindling,
keeping the lawn in order, running the furnace
fire, milking, feeding chickens, and even preparing
lessons, had all been grouped under the
one head, "fighting the enemy." Mothers and
sisters were sometimes bewildered at the number
of maneuvers necessary for so simple a task
as filling the waterpail; but, after all, they
reasoned, the work was done, and that was the
main thing.
The sun had set and the moon was shining
over the quiet street when the braves gathered
once more in the wigwam. No whippoorwill
could be heard in Benton, but the expression
was understood by the tribe to mean a time
vnrvinrr fi?Am V*** 1 ? 4? ? *? 1*
. J 1.VIU naxi'paoi oia iu eiglll, according
to the season. When the last warrior had arrived,
the chief gave his instructions in a low
tone; then all crept stealthily ont at the side
door of the wigwam. What was their surprise
to be stopped under the great elm near the walk
by a tall man arrayed in what seemed to be a
hunting shirt, leggings, high boots and a small
fnr cap.
I l ? 1 * - - - - - -
i?n me trial, orotnersT" asked a voice they
all knew well. "Do the Maqnoketas go on the
trial, for either peace or war, without a word to
Natty Bnmpo?"
Here the braves allowed themselves to grin
and nufl?f: each o^her in the moonlight; for the
arrival of Na'tfy Fnm'p'o, commrniTy' ertlWH
I 0 T H [August 7, 1912
Judge Lynde, always meant something interesting.
"I have heard of your purpose," the voice
continued softly; "and, as the jab ye've an.
dertaken is a 'judgmatical' one, the enemy being
strongly entrenched, I thought to offer my
help."
"What is the will of the tribe?" asked the
Chief in a clear whisDer.
Together the warriors answered softly, but
distinctly, "Let the paleface brother come."
Then stealthily, in Indian file, the tribe and
Natty Bumpo made their way to Miss Raymond's
home and began work in earnest.
Silently the figures moved about, communicating
with each other in signs. Rover, the collie,
frisked here and there, but without barking,
seeming to realize that something unusual
was happening, and that he, too, must be quiet.
.Too Vnnn?, C 4.?>\ - ' *
. vmuu v toiucii.uui j even succeeaea in
entering the kitchen and passing through the
window to his comrades the young cucumber
and tomato plants which were to be set out in
the beds prepared for them.
It was half-past ten /'the time of the hooting
owl," when the work was done, and the tired,
happy braves filed out of the garden and went
to their various homes.
"They worked well," the judge said t? his
wife. "It was pretty late for such youngsters
to be out; but I guess it won't hurt them for
once, especially as it's Friday night. It's queer
how much easier it is to spade a garden, plant
vegetables and pull weeds when you say you
are 'fighting the enemy' instead of just doing
plain work. I wish we'd thought of such a
plan when I was a boy."
Next morning the astonished nurse reported
to Miss Raymond tho state of affairs in the <*ar
den. That lady insisted upon being put into
her chair at once and wheeled to the window.
"She began to get better right away," the
nurse said later. "She'd been worrying about
that garden; and when she saw what the boys
had done, it seemed to help her more than medicine."
"I don't see how they ever did it without
waking me," Miss Raymond observed to Mrs.
Lynde. "You know, Helen, I'm a light sleeper."
"Oh, they used their sign language, and its
a point of honor with them when they're on the
war-path to move without making any noise."
As for the watering and weeding of the garden,
with many other deeds of the Maquoketas,
they are set down in the books of the keeper of
the picture-writings.?Caroline Sheldon, in the
Congregationalist.
THE LOCKET CORDELIA EARNED.
"Aun-tee! Aun-tee!"
"Here, Cordelia!" answered Auntie. She
knew by experience that when Cordelia called
in that tone, it was something very, very important,
that could not possibly wait two
seconds. "Here, in the pantry."
Cordelia balanced herself on the door sill with
shining eyes and crimson cheeks. "Auntie,
Jessie's got a birthday present. I just saw it.
It's the prettiest, loveliest gold locket, like a
heart, you know, and it's got a real pearl."
"Oh, Auntie, it just makes me most crasy?
? ?^ ? ? ... i
uu yuu spose?couia 1 ever?" Tfte wistroiness
of Cordelia's eyes finished the sentence.
"I would be as' happy as you, if you ever
could, dear," answered Auntie, "but you know
Jessie's father has plenty of money to buy
things for his little girl?while Uncle?"
"Yes, I know." Cordelia winked very fas*
and looked hard at the toe of her shoe. "But
if I earned it?"
"How could you earn it, girlie!"
Obrdelia did'ndt andw*r TVtr a mtfment.