Lunch over, they exchanged gossip under the trees for a merry half hour, then the girls took their departure and sped homeward to carry the news to Carver House.
CHAPTER X
THE OPENING CAREER OF MANY EYES
The Winnebagos, happy and hungry, gathered around the breakfast table in answer to the summons which Hinpoha had just sent echoing through the house. With the advent of the Winnebagos at Carver House, Nyoda's melodiously chiming Japanese dinner gong had been discarded in favor of a hoarse-throated fish horn, which bore some similarity to the sound of a bugle and was therefore to be preferred because it had more of a military flavor.
"Where's Sahwah?" asked Nyoda, noticing that her place was vacant
Nobody knew.
Hinpoha blew a second blast of the horn up the stairway, making a noise that would have waked the Seven Sleepers with ease, but there was no answer.
"Sahwah must be out taking a morning walk," announced Hinpoha, when her horn blast had failed to rout out the absentee, "she's forever exercising herself in the early morning hours—as if we didn't get enough exercise doing military drill! It's no wonder she's like a beanpole. I would be, too, if I was forever trotting the way she is. Here she comes now, tearing up the walk like a racehorse!"
"She probably heard your horn on the other side of the woods," said Nyoda, laughing, "and got here before it stopped blowing."
Sahwah came in quite out of breath and evidently tremendously enthusiastic about something.
"Nyoda," she burst out as soon as she was inside the door, "how fast would a Primitive Woman go up and how many pounds would she pull?"
"What?" asked Nyoda, looking up inquiringly from the cup of cocoa she was handing to Gladys. The rest of the Winnebagos looked at Sahwah in open-mouthed astonishment.
"How fast would a Primitive Woman go up and how many pounds would she pull?" repeated Nyoda. "What is it, a riddle?"
"No, a kite," replied Sahwah impatiently. "I mean a kite built like Many Eyes, our Primitive Woman symbol; would she fly high and pull a heavy tail?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," replied Nyoda. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I've entered the kite-flying contest that the Boy Scouts of this town are having, and I thought of building my kite in the Primitive Woman shape."
"You've entered a kite-flying contest that the Boy Scouts are having!" exclaimed Hinpoha in surprise. "How on earth did you happen to do that?"
"It's open to outsiders," replied Sahwah. "I saw a Scout nailing a bulletin on a tree in the square down town challenging all the boys in town to a kite-flying contest on Commons Field next Saturday afternoon."
"All the boys in town!" replied Hinpoha. "Since when are you a boy?"
"Well," replied Sahwah, "I read the sign and I remembered how I used to love to fly kites with my brother and I thought what fun it would be to go into the contest. So I ran after the Scout who had nailed up the bulletin and asked him if we Winnebagos couldn't enter the contest, and he was awfully nice about it when he heard we were Camp Fire Girls. He said of course we couldn't build a decent kite, no girl could, but if we wanted to go into the contest and get beaten the Scouts wouldn't care. So I wrote our name in the space under the announcement that was left for the entries, and we're going to be in the contest! On the way home I thought of building the kite in the shape of Primitive Woman, which would be original and symbolic. Do you think she'd fly high, Nyoda?" she asked anxiously.
"I can't say," replied Nyoda. "I'll have to confess that I know nothing whatever about the art of flying kites. My childhood was sadly neglected, I'm afraid, but that's one thing I never did. All you can do is make one and try."
Sahwah set to work right after breakfast with sticks of wood and brown wrapping paper and by afternoon her kite was ready for its trial flight. All the Winnebagos went out to help fly it. The trial was a success. Primitive Woman soared high at a good rate of speed and pulled a five-pound tail. Jubilant, Sahwah stripped the common wrapping paper from the frame and with fine brown paper which Nyoda gave her began to construct a Primitive Woman which was a work of art. Hinpoha painted the features on the triangle-shaped head, and under her clever brush Many Eyes was soon looking out on the world with a serene and confident smile. The Winnebagos were enchanted with the result and all enthusiastic about the contest now.
"Many Eyes, you're holding the honor of the Camp Fire Girls in your hands," said Sahwah solemnly. "You've got to fly faster than any kite a mere Boy Scout can invent. You've got to win!" And it seemed to the girls, surrounding Many Eyes as she stood up against the wall to dry, that her smile widened in a promise of victory.
"Let's make a magic over her," suggested Hinpoha, "and then she can't lose," Hinpoha was always having rings wished on her fingers, and running around her chair to change her luck, and building rain jinxes before starting out on excursions.
"Let's find a four-leaf clover and fasten it on her," said Migwan. "Where'll we find one?"
"Out in the woods there's a place where there are some," replied Sahwah.
"We might take our supper out in the woods," suggested Nyoda. "Aren't we going to have a Ceremonial Meeting tonight to take Agony and Oh-Pshaw into the Winnebagos? We could have our Council Fire out in the woods after supper."
"Let's take Many Eyes along and make her our official mascot," suggested Sahwah. "We can install her with ceremonies, like we did Eeny-Meeny."
This bit of nonsense was seized upon by the Winnebagos as a grand inspiration. When Agony and Oh-Pshaw arrived at Carver House with their Ceremonial dresses in neat packages under their arms and their lists of honors in their hands they found the Winnebagos forming a procession out by the back gate. Sahwah headed the parade, holding up above her head a huge kite made in the form of the symbolic Primitive Woman, with a long tail which the rest of the Winnebagos carried like pages carrying a queen's court train.
"What on earth!" began Agony.
"Get on the end of the line and help carry her tail!" commanded Sahwah.
"What's the idea?" demanded Agony suspiciously. "Are we getting initiated?"
"No," explained Sahwah. "This is Many Eyes, our entry in the Boy Scout's kite-flying contest. We're conveying her in state to the Council Rock. We're going to make her our official mascot and then she'll be sure to win the contest."
"And we're going to find a four-leaf clover and put it on her and render her impassable," said Hinpoha. Hinpoha was trying to think of "unsurpassable," and "impassable" was the nearest she came to it.
Agony and Oh-Pshaw joined themselves on to the procession with alacrity.
"We passed the Boy Scouts' bulletin board on the way over," said Agony, "and we saw that the Winnebagos were entered in the contest."
"Were there any more entries?" asked Sahwah eagerly.
"Several," replied Agony. "Scout Troops Number One, Two and Three were entered."
"Now," said Hinpoha, who seemed to be mistress of ceremonies, "we're going to make a magic so that Many Eyes will win, and first we are going to do the Indian Silence. We're going to march to the woods in single file, carrying Many Eyes, and nobody must speak a word, or the charm will be broken. Nobody must speak until we've found the four leaf clover."
"How perfectly epic!" exclaimed Agony, falling in with the spirit of the occasion.
"Is everybody ready?" asked Hinpoha. "Come on, then. Start!"
The procession moved off like a snake past the barn and down the hill, Many Eyes smiling serenely ahead of her. The silence continued deep and sepulchral all the way down the hill and quite to the edge of the woods, and then Nyoda suddenly exclaimed, "The supper basket! Who has it?"
Nobody had it!
The Winnebagos looked sheepishly at one another and then Migwan and Gladys offered to go back and get it.
"We'll sit right here, and wait for you," said Hinpoha, "and none of us will speak a word until you come."
Many Eyes was propped against a tree while her escort sat around on the ground holding their handkerchiefs in front of their mouths to keep from talking. Migwan and Gladys presently came panting up and the procession resumed its way into the woods. It was harder walking here and the tail-bearers often stumbled against each other or accidentally kicked each other's shins, and when that happened they had to compress their lips tightly to keep back the exclamations of surprise or pain that involuntarily sought expression. The procession wound up beside the stream which Sahwah had discovered in the woods on the other side of the hill, at a smooth, grassy spot where the clover grew in abundance. Here they set Many Eyes down on the ground and began hunting diligently for the symbol of good luck. It was a good thing that the four leaf clover was found soon—and by Sahwah, too, which was taken as a further omen of good luck—or the strain of the silence might have been fatal to a few of the searchers. Agony was ready to burst long before the time limit was up.
Then, when the charm of the silence had gotten in its good work, and the little green quatrefoil had been fastened into the outstretched right hand of Many Eyes, Hinpoha selected several soft, flat stones from the stream and carved them with further good luck omens—the swastika, the horseshoe, and all the other signs she could think of that were supposed to bring good luck. These were to be a part of the kite's tail. A little later they all clasped hands and wished for success on the evening star. Then, to her great delight, Hinpoha caught a glimpse of the slender new moon over her left shoulder, and registered her wish on that. Meanwhile the others noticed a big black spider letting himself down from the tree above, directly in front of Many Eyes—another omen of good fortune. Never had the signs been so auspicious for any undertaking.
Nyoda carried Many Eyes with her when she took her place on the Council Rock. The Council Fire was to be held on the great flat rock that overhung the Devil's Punch Bowl; an impressive place indeed to hold a Camp Fire Ceremonial, up there right under the stars, it seemed, with the wind fiddling through the branches all around them and the water whispering to itself below. The rock was about twenty feet wide and as flat as a table.
Agony and Oh-Pshaw and Veronica, who were the lowest in rank of the Winnebagos, had gathered the wood for the fire and laid the fagots in place in the center of the rock, with the bow and drill and tinder beside it and the supply of firewood nearby.
Nyoda smiled whimsically at Many Eyes, standing against the perpendicular back ledge of the Council Rock, and with her heart full of love for the girls who could get so much fun out of a kite, wished success to their cause with all her soul. Then she stood up in the center of the rock and sent forth the clear call, the summons for the tribe of Wohelo to come to the Council Fire.
The call rang far out over the water and came echoing back from the surrounding hills, and before the echoes had died away it was answered from the depths of the wood, and then shadowy figures came stealing forward from between the tall trees, a silent file that came winding down to the Council Rock in a stately procession. The circle closed around Nyoda and she stooped to kindle the fire. As the bow flashed quickly back and forth and the drill whirled in its center, a low, musical chant rose from the circle:
The chant swelled out in volume to a dramatic climax as a puff of smoke burst forth beneath the point of the whirling drill. Nyoda adroitly caught the spark in a bed of tinder and raised it to her lips, blowing gently to fan it into flame, while the chant was resumed:
The "wee spark" turned into a tiny point of flame and the tinder burst out into a merry blaze. Nyoda dropped it into the pile of fagots and the ceremonial fire was kindled, while the Winnebagos sprang to their feet, ready to sing, "Burn, fire, burn."
When that had been sung the Winnebagos still remained on their feet. There was a moment of silence and then they sang a hearty cheer:
They were singing to the absent Winnebagos who would always be present in spirit wherever the Winnebagos were gathered together.
Agony and Oh-Pshaw were touched and felt a lump rising in their throats; it was so beautiful, this bond of affection between the Winnebagos. They were completely carried away by the dramatic atmosphere of a Winnebago Council Fire. They had never taken part in such an elaborate one. Both of them, by spasmodic efforts, had attained the rank of Fire Maker in the group to which they had formerly belonged, whose Guardian had meant well enough, but had neither the time nor the talent to become a successful Camp Fire leader. The group had never accomplished much, and had finally drifted apart, as many groups do, for lack of a powerful welding influence.
Agony and Oh-Pshaw, having been instrumental in starting the group, had "run" it to their hearts' content; that is, Agony ran it, for her dominating personality completely overshadowed her sister along with the rest of the members. Agony "ran" the Guardian, too, who admired her immensely, thought everything she did a symptom of genius, stood not a little in awe of her family connections, and let her have full sway in everything. Agony was fond of the Guardian, too, but naturally was not profoundly influenced by association with her.
But there was an altogether different atmosphere in the Winnebago group, as Agony soon discovered. No one girl had any more to say than the others, all worked together in perfect harmony, and all worshipped the same sun, Nyoda. She was a great lode star that drew them together, and kept them circling contentedly in their little orbits; she was their oracle, their all-wise counsellor, their loving elder sister. Around her the Winnebagos clustered, as the populace did about Peter, anxious to have his shadow fall upon them. The Twins had also fallen under her spell and after their first meeting had become her adoring slaves. "Run" Nyoda? The thought never entered Agony's mind.
In her own group Agony had achieved her honors easily, for the Guardian had not been too insistent about having things done well, and some of her honors were really only half earned. So she had become a Fire Maker without any strenuous efforts. Now her great ambition was to be a Torch Bearer. All the year at school she had looked with envy on the little round silver pins that Hinpoha and Migwan and Gladys wore and noticed how people who understood the meaning of that little pin always exclaimed admiringly, "Oh, you're a Torch Bearer!" Agony could not bear to have anyone get ahead of her, she must be a Torch Bearer, too. She could hurry up and get enough honor beads by the next Council meeting to be eligible.
After the ceremony of the installation was over and she and Oh-Pshaw were really Winnebagos, she spoke of the desire which lay near to her heart. It was in the little intimate talk time which always took place during the Ceremonial Meeting, when the flames began to burn down to embers, just before it was time to sing, "Now Our Camp Fire Fadeth."
"Nyoda," she said confidently, "I'm ready to become a Torch Bearer at the next meeting."
Nyoda looked at her with serious, thoughtful eyes. In the Winnebago group, it had not been customary for the girls to announce that they were worthy to be called Torch Bearer. Nyoda had herself conferred that honor upon them when she considered them worthy. No one had ever voiced her belief that she was ready, although Nyoda knew how each one had coveted the title. She was able to read Agony clearly, and knew that the keynote of her life was ambition. She was pretty certain that Agony wanted to be a Torch Bearer because it was the highest rank to which a Camp Fire Girl could aspire, and she wanted to be on the top. As yet she had seen no evidence of a humble desire to lose herself so deeply in the joy of service for others that self was forgotten. Agony was a born leader, there was no doubt about that, but Nyoda knew that she was not yet ruler over her own spirit. To the Winnebagos it seemed that Agony was already a Torch Bearer beyond compare, but Nyoda's inner voice of wisdom whispered, "Not yet." Agony must win that title in humility and self-forgetfulness before she could glory in it.
So she replied quietly, "When you have earned the right to be called Torch Bearer you shall be made one, but remember, Agony, that one does not become a Torch Bearer merely by earning a certain number of honor beads and standing up and repeating the Torch Bearer's Desire. A girl must have shown a steady power of leadership for a long time, and must satisfy all the questions in the Guardian's mind about her fitness for the rank. Also remember, Agony, that true leadership does not necessarily mean taking the world by storm and being tremendously popular with people. It may sometimes mean retiring to the background and playing a very insignificant part, instead of being always in the limelight. A good leader is first of all a good team worker, one who is willing to suppress her own personal inclinations for the good of the cause."
Agony, who was not given to examining her own faults very closely, failed to see wherein she fell short in any of these requirements, and was filled with elation as she thought that just as soon as Nyoda began taking special notice of her she would see that she was a candidate par excellence for the title of Torch Bearer.
"You shouldn't have asked to be made a Torch Bearer!" Sahwah whispered in her ear while Nyoda was stirring up the fire. "That isn't the way to do it; it's like handing yourself a bouquet!"
"Well, I didn't know it," Agony whispered back, not a whit abashed. "In our other group we had to ask for everything we got or we never would have gotten it."
Nyoda then turned to Oh-Pshaw, who had sat silent and thoughtful during the whole Council Meeting.
"Are you ready to be a Torch Bearer, too?" she asked.
"Oh, no," replied Oh-Pshaw modestly. "I'm not worthy to be called a Torch Bearer. I'm not a born leader, like Agony is." There was a world of unexpressed longing in her voice.
Nyoda thought seriously about the matter. Oh-Pshaw was certainly humble and unassuming enough, always kind and sweet and obliging, always willing to take any part in anything that was assigned her, but did she have the grit and backbone, the force of character which Nyoda considered necessary qualifications for a Torch Bearer? As yet she did not know.
The subject was dropped. The circle sat in a silence for a moment. Each one of the Torch Bearers in that circle was humbly wondering what Nyoda had ever seen in her to cause her to single her out for the honor. And each one became very sober as she thought about it and wondered if she had come up to Nyoda's expectations.
The fire was burning low and the embers sent only a feeble glow around the Council Rock. Behind them the forest stretched darkly away, and in the stillness that brooded over them the sound of the lapping water beneath came up with a curious distinctness. Oh-Pshaw shuddered as she heard it and drew closer to the fire.
"What's the matter, are you cold?" asked Nyoda.
"I hate the sound of running water!" exclaimed Oh-Pshaw. "It fairly makes my blood curdle. It's been so ever since I can remember. I hate it in daylight, but at night it makes my hair stand on end! If I were out here alone with it I'd simply go insane!"
"Why, how queer!" said Sahwah, unable to understand how anyone could be afraid of her beloved element, and the others laughed, too, thinking that Oh-Pshaw was only exaggerating, as most girls do over their little peculiarities.
"It is queer," said Agony, "because water doesn't affect me a bit like that. I love to hear it, day or night. But it's been that way with Oh-Pshaw ever since she was little. I can remember once when we were about five years old she had spasms because our nurse left us alone in the bathtub when the water was running in. She can't even stand it to hear the water running down the eave spouts during a heavy shower."
The Winnebagos all laughed again at this queer "bête noir" of Oh-Pshaw's, all but Nyoda. She knew something which the girls did not, and which neither Agony nor Oh-Pshaw herself knew, something which had been told her by Grandmother Wing in one of her talks with Nyoda. That was that when Oh-Pshaw was a baby only three months old she had been taken out in a sailboat by her father and mother on the river which ran through Oakwood. A squall came up and the boat capsized and all three were thrown into the wildly rolling river. They were promptly rescued by a nearby launch, all unhurt, but the moaning, gurgling sound of the water had stamped itself indelibly on Oh-Pshaw's tiny brain and she would never again be able to hear that gurgling noise without a sensation of horror. During her infancy, even the sound of water gurgling out of a bottle was sufficient to throw her into spasms. She had never been told about the accident, in the hope that she would outgrow the shock and get over the fear, but she had never outgrown it. She no longer had spasms when she heard water gurgling, but the sound chilled her to the very marrow of her bones, and she never went alone, even in daylight, past the river.
Nyoda knew how real this fear was and sympathized deeply with her, although she pretended to make light of it, as the others did. Nyoda and the Winnebagos loved to sit in the silence of the woods when the fire burned low and listen to the murmuring of the water, but for Oh-Pshaw's sake they must not do it to-night.
"Come, girls," Nyoda called cheerily, "'Fire's gwine out,' time to sing 'Mammy Moon' and then go home."
She poked the last embers of the fire into a little blaze, and the light and the lively measures of the song took Oh-Pshaw's mind off the gurgling water.
The circle all lay down with their heads on each other's shoulders in the drowsy attitude with which the song closes, and then Gladys's clear voice rose in the melody of the Camp Fire Girls' own lullaby, sung to the music of an Ojibway love song:
Then the last ember burned out into darkness and with the aid of their little bug lights they stole home through the shadowy woods; Sahwah carrying Many Eyes in her arms and confident she was a winner; Agony filled with a great elation because her ambition to become a Torch Bearer would soon be realized; Oh-Pshaw sadly wishing she were a born leader like her sister; and Nyoda, walking with them, guessed what was in the mind of each and her heart went out to them in tender love as the heart of a shepherd goes out to his sheep.
CHAPTER XI
THE FURTHER CAREER OF MANY EYES
"What a grand day, and the wind just right," exulted Sahwah on Saturday noon as the Winnebagos were hastening home from military drill. "It was just made for flying kites."
"Are Slim and the Captain coming?" asked Hinpoha.
"They said they were," replied Sahwah.
"Father's coming, too," said Agony. "He came home this morning. He said he would get Mr. Prince to come along with him."
"Oh, dear, I do hope we win, with him there!" said Hinpoha. "But I don't see how Many Eyes can help winning, with the four leaf clover and all the good luck signs tied to her tail," she finished confidently. Hinpoha believed firmly in the potency of her charms.
But alas for charms and good luck signs! Maybe the Fates stand in awe of them, but they are powerless in the case of a goat. The Winnebagos reached home just in time to see Many Eyes, impaled on Kaiser Bill's horns, borne swiftly through the garden toward the stable. Sahwah shrieked and darted in pursuit, whereupon the Kaiser collided with a tree and drove his whole head and shoulders through the paper form of Many Eyes and splintered her ribs like toothpicks. Then he dashed round and round the garden at top speed, scattering bits of her tail in his wake. By the time he had finally been subdued with an open umbrella there was not enough left of Many Eyes to know that she had ever been a kite.
The Winnebagos stood dumb with dismay and Sahwah nearly strangled with mingled rage and disappointment.
"We're finished, as far as the contest is concerned," said Agony gloomily.
Sahwah turned her back sharply and winked her eyes hard to keep the tears from falling. She had worked so hard to build Many Eyes, and here was all her work gone for nothing, all on account of that fiendish goat!
"Somebody will have to go and tell the Scouts that we withdraw our entry, I suppose," said Migwan.
"Yes, and maybe they won't believe that the goat smashed it," said Agony darkly. "Maybe they'll think we fell down on making a kite, or got cold feet or something."
Sahwah's eyes flashed and she whirled around fiercely, galvanized into action by Agony's words. "That Scout I was talking to was so sure we couldn't make a kite, and I was just aching to show him!" she said with tragic emphasis. Then resolution kindled in her eyes. "I said we were going into that contest, and we are! They'll never get a chance to say we backed down! I'm going to make another kite!"
"Oh, Sahwah, there isn't time," said Hinpoha hopelessly. "It's twelve o'clock already and the contest starts at two."
"Two hours!" replied Sahwah. "I can make one in two hours."
"But you haven't had your lunch----" began Hinpoha.
"Lunch!" exclaimed Sahwah scornfully. "Who wants any lunch? I'm going to build another kite!"
She sped into the house and in a few moments was busy nailing together another frame while the rest of the Winnebagos stood around and handed her tacks, paper, paste, and everything as she needed it. By half past one another Primitive Woman had been evolved by her flying fingers, Migwan and Gladys hastily constructing the tail while Sahwah made the kite proper.
"I believe I'd have time to paint a face on her," said Hinpoha. She seized her brush and put in an eye with rapid strokes. The clock chimed a quarter to two and Sahwah started up nervously.
"There isn't time to do any more, Hinnpoha," she said. "We'll just have time to get there now. She'll just have to go as she is."
"But can you call her Many Eyes if she only has one eye?" objected Hinpoha.
"Never mind what we call her," said Sahwah. "She's a kite, and that's all she needs to be. Call her One Eye if you like. What have you put in her tail?"
"Some of those little sample bags of salt," replied Migwan. "They were the only things we could find to put in as weights."
"Salt's bad luck!" wailed Hinpoha. "Oh, whatever did you take salt for?"
"Too late to change now," said Sahwah.
Agony looked scornfully at the new edition of Many Eyes. "For goodness' sake, you aren't going to enter that thing in the contest?" she exclaimed when she saw it. "Why, it looks perfectly crazy. Everybody will laugh at it. I'd rather stay out of the contest than enter such a looking kite. It looks like a scarecrow! For goodness' sake, don't enter that!"
Sahwah had to admit that the new Many Eyes was a rather laughable object, with her one eye and her miscellaneous tail and her one arm covered with yellow paper where the brown had given out.
"I don't care what she looks like, she'll fly," said Sahwah stoutly.
"Well, I care what she looks like," returned Agony. "I tell you everybody will laugh at us and our one-eyed kite."
"Let them laugh," retorted Sahwah, "I don't care."
"Oh, come on," said Migwan good-naturedly, "stop arguing about it. If we're going into the contest we'll have to get there pretty soon. We won't win, of course, but we'll show the boys that we're game, anyway. Like the 'poor, benighted Hindoo,' we'll 'do the best we kin do!' Be a sport, Agony, and come on."
Sahwah gathered up her kite in her arms and started for the door. Going through the hall she knocked Hinpoha's little purse mirror from the table and smashed it all to bits. Hinpoha was aghast. "Bad luck again!" she wailed.
"Never mind, 'Poha, I'll buy you another mirror," said Sahwah. "Just leave the pieces, I'll sweep them up when I come back."
Agony scolded about the crazy-looking kite all the way to Commons Field and Hinpoha resignedly accepted the fact that luck was against them, and they might as well not enter the contest. To all of their remarks Sahwah paid no heed, stubbornly keeping her determination to enter her beloved kite.
"We've got to be sports now and not back down," was the only thing she would say.
"Yes," said Migwan, "remember—"
The other entries had already arrived on the scene when the Winnebagos got there, and a good many of the Oakwood boys and girls had assembled to watch the contest. Commons Field was a five-acre lot running down to the river on the eastern side of the town, used as baseball field, footfall field, and general sporting grounds. It was a sort of natural amphitheatre, for a grassy hill curved around two sides of it, making an ideal place for the spectators to sit and watch what was going on below.
Lists of the entries in the contest had been posted on various trees.
GREAT KITE FLYING CONTEST
Entries
"How graciously they put us at the end of the list," remarked Sahwah.
The Captain and Slim were there waiting for them and looked at Many Eyes critically, but they forebore to laugh at her. Sahwah felt as though she would explode if they made fun of her. But they made no disparaging remarks, although they both felt dubious about the flying qualities of a kite in the shape of a Primitive Woman. However, they were game and promised to shout for her with all their might.
The Scout who had taken Sahwah's entry that day under the tree came strolling over, curious to see what kind of a kite she had produced.
"Ho, ho!" he scoffed. "What kind of a kite do you call that? That's nothing but a paper doll. That's just the kind of a kite you'd expect a girl to make. Now when you're making a kite, you want to make a kite, not a paper doll! And what did you go and paint that one eye on there for and nothing else, and then enter her as Many Eyes?"
Sahwah forbore to reply, and walked away, shielding her poor darling with her body against the curious stares and comments of the other contestants. Mr. Wing was sympathetic when he heard of the tragic fate of the original Many Eyes and did not laugh at her hopscotch successor, but the artist, who was with him, laughed uncontrollably, which hurt Sahwah's feelings and increased the slight antagonism she already had toward him. So she walked away from him, too, and took her place with the contestants, who were forming in a line in the field. All around her she heard amused comments passed upon the shape of No. 6 entry; everybody called it the "paper doll." In height and breadth it conformed to the prescribed measurements laid down by the rules of the contest, but it did look so odd for a kite to have a head and arms and legs! All the other entries were the regulation kite shape. Victory Bird and American Eagle had pictures of eagles with outstretched wings pasted upon them. The whistle blew and the kites were launched in air and immediately the sky was split with the shouts of the various rooters.
"VICTORY BIRD! VICTORY BIRD! VICTORY BIRD!"
"SAMMY BOY! SAMMY BOY! SAMMY BOY!"
"SKYSCRAPER! SKYSCRAPER! SKYSCRAPER!"
In the midst of the din came the feebler, but stanch cheer of the Winnebagos. Nyoda noticed that Agony did not cheer for Many Eyes; she had slipped away from the Winnebagos and stood by herself a few paces off, trying to look like a disinterested spectator.
"She won't cheer for Many Eyes because she's ashamed of her and doesn't want people to know she's her entry!" was the painful thought that came into Nyoda's mind.
The rest of the Winnebagos stood gamely together and shrieked for their entry at the tops of their voices. Slim and the Captain stood by them loyally and made as much racket as they could.
The ripple of amusement that had caused Agony so much chagrin when the "paper doll" began her flight soon changed to astonished applause, for Many Eyes won in a walk! Straight up she soared, "just like an angel," as Sahwah described it afterwards, tugging so hard on her leash that the stick upon which the string was wound spun around in Sahwah's hand like a bobbin and it was all she could do to hold on to it. Once she got started she left all the others far behind. As Slim said, she "made them look like a row of stationary wash tubs."
Sammy Boy and the Skyscraper got their tails twisted and came to earth in a tangled mass; American Eagle was top heavy and flopped around in circles and never rose higher than fifty feet, Mikado went up steadily but slowly, straining at its weighted tail; and Victory Bird, whom everybody expected to win, came a close second, and that was all. Many Eyes got to the end of her string first and danced triumphantly about in the air, several yards above Victory Bird. With everything dead set against her, broken looking glass, salt weights, only one eye, and not a single good luck symbol on her anywhere she had come out first in spite of it all!
Then the Winnebagos nearly split their throats cheering, and Agony, who had slipped back to them, cheered louder than all the rest, advertising to all within earshot that she was a Winnebago and belonged to the winning entry.
"And to think," marveled Hinpoha, "that with all her lucky symbols, the other Many Eyes came to grief, and this one won without a single thing to help her! I'll never have faith in good and bad luck signs again!"
The Scout who had scoffed at Many Eyes before the contest came around afterward and looked her over thoughtfully, and discussed her construction in a decidedly respectful tone with Sahwah.
"Now, can a girl design a kite?" asked Sahwah triumphantly.
"I guess she can," admitted the Scout as graciously as he could under the circumstances. He was the one who had designed Victory Bird and it was hard for him to admit that he had been beaten by a girl.
"But then, you're a Camp Fire Girl," he added, as if it were not so much of a defeat to be beaten by a Camp Fire Girl as by an ordinary girl.
"But what did you put the one eye on her for?" he finished curiously.
"So she could see where she was going," replied Sahwah gravely.
"But why didn't you put two eyes in her?" persisted the Scout.
"Because she only needed one to see to get ahead of your kites," answered Sahwah, and felt that her triumph was complete.
After the contest was over the Winnebagos went out rowing on the river with Mr. Wing and the artist and Slim and the Captain. Oh-Pshaw wouldn't go, nothing would ever induce her to go rowing, so Nyoda stayed out with her while the rest went. Slim and the Captain had a private squabble as to which one should have Hinpoha in his boat and while they were squabbling she got into the boat with the artist, so the Captain solaced himself with Sahwah and Agony, and Slim took Gladys and Veronica. Migwan got into the boat with Mr. Wing, an arrangement which pleased them both, for Migwan thought Mr. Wing the most charming man in the world, and he was very fond of the sweet, Madonna-faced girl with the beautiful, thoughtful eyes and the intellectual forehead.
"Who's the nervy party with the chin whiskers that's cabbaged Hinpoha?" asked the Captain of Sahwah, scowling crossly after the leading boat, which was already drawing away from the rest of the party.
"He's an artist, his name is Prince," replied Sahwah. "He's a great friend of Agony's father."
"Is he a great friend of Hinpoha's, too?" demanded the Captain.
"She thinks he's the most wonderful man she ever met," replied Sahwah.
The Captain scowled again, and caught a crab, showering Sahwah and Agony with drops from his oar. "Excuse me!" he exclaimed, disgusted with himself. "Oh, hang it all, anyway!" This last was uttered under his breath, but Sahwah's sharp ear heard it. "Do you think he's so wonderful?" he demanded anxiously. The Captain had a vast respect for Sahwah's opinion in most matters.
"I don't like him at all!" Sahwah burst out vehemently. "He's always smiling, and all I can think of is a grinning hyena!" Sahwah spoke with unnecessary vigor, but the remembrance of how he had laughed at Many Eyes still rankled in her bosom.
"Why, Sahwah!" exclaimed Agony in a shocked tone. "How can you say such a thing? I think he's perfectly wonderful," she added. "So polished, and such charming manners."
Here Sahwah created a diversion by dropping her hat overboard, and the artist was forgotten in the exciting business of rescuing it from the swiftly running current.
Hinpoha, beside herself with joy at the victory of Many Eyes, was boasting to the artist what a wonderful group the Winnebagos were.
"And that's not all," she said, as she finished the tale of their numerous achievements on land and water, "we've got a real live baroness in our group!"
"Indeed!" said the artist, nearly dropping his oar in his surprise. "Which one is it?"
"Veronica," replied Hinpoha, gratified at the impression this statement had made upon her listener, and then she launched into a detailed account of Veronica's entire history, dwelling on the part where Veronica had played for the prince.
It was not until she was tucked into bed that night and was just dropping off to sleep that she remembered her promise not to tell anyone about Veronica. "But it was perfectly all right to tell him" she said to herself, "he was so interested and so sympathetic." And she dropped off to sleep with never a qualm of conscience about her broken promise.
CHAPTER XII
THE COURT MARTIAL OF THE KAISER
"'Gee, ain't it fierce, we ain't got no flag to fight this here Revolution with!'" Agony, carrying a baseball bat at "shoulder arms," paced slowly back and forth across the attic in the Wing home with an exaggerated military stride. "Is that loud enough, Nyoda?" she asked.
"Yes, your voice is all right," approved Nyoda, jabbing a pin into the large felt hat which she was transferring into a tricorn, "but don't kick your feet straight up in front of you that way. The American army didn't goose-step, remember. Try it again. There, that's better.
"Now, Second Soldier, your little speech, and remember to salute when you're through."
Oh-Pshaw, similarly outfitted as to firearms, added her bit to the drama which was unfolding under Nyoda's direction.
"Now we'll do it with the scenery," announced Nyoda. "Come on, scenery, all up! Here, Trees, you stand here," pushing Hinpoha into place at one side of the landscape, "and More Trees, you get over on the other side. Who is More Trees? Oh, Migwan. All right, you two stand there and sway gently in the breeze. Where are the Guns? Oh, here you are, Sahwah. And the rest of the Guns, that's you, Veronica. Here, you Guns, stack yourselves against Trees."
Sahwah and Veronica inclined toward each other at a precarious angle and leaned against Trees. Trees promptly doubled up and clapped both her hands over the pit of her stomach, and Guns, losing their balance, fell in a heap on the floor.
"What's the matter?" demanded Nyoda.
"Oooo-oo-oo-oh!" giggled Trees. "Sahwah tickled my ribs!"
"Try it again," directed Nyoda, assisting Guns to rise from the floor and stacking them against an invulnerable spot on Trees.
"Now, where's the Moon?"
"Gone downstairs to get a paintbrush," replied More Trees.
"What'll Moon rise on?" asked Nyoda, knitting her brows in thought.
"Take the piano stool," suggested the First Soldier, leaning on his weapon in a picturesque attitude.
"The very thing!" exclaimed Nyoda. "Bring up the piano stool!" she shouted down the stairway, and a few minutes later the Moon came into view, carrying her rising power in one hand, a bottle of India ink in the other, a number of sheets of cardboard under her arm and a paintbrush held crosswise in her mouth.
"Gracious, if you'd ever slipped coming up the stairs!" exclaimed the Second Soldier, springing forward to take the bottle of ink out of the hand of the Moon.
"Now Moon, you rise behind More Trees," ordered Nyoda, setting the piano stool behind Migwan.
"How does a moon rise, anyway?" asked Gladys in perplexity.
"Oh, begin by crouching on the piano stool, and then straighten up gradually to a standing position over Migwan's shoulder," answered Nyoda. "Now then! 'Curtain rises. Scene shows camp of the American army at the time of the Revolution. Trees on left, more trees on right, guns stacked against trees. Moon rises,' All right, Moon, rise!"
Gladys rose shakily to a standing position, her hand on the shoulder of More Trees.
"Now beam over the trees, Moon."
Moon did her best to beam and grinned from ear to ear; Guns howled with laughter; the piano stool began to turn; Moon clutched wildly at More Trees and went down with a crash on the floor.
"Eclipse of the Moon," laughed Nyoda, rushing to the aid of the fallen one.
"Let somebody else be the Moon," declared Gladys, when she had been restored to the perpendicular, viewing the shaky stool with disfavor. "Let Sahwah be it, she's more of an acrobat."
"You have to be the Moon because you've got light hair," replied Nyoda in a tone of finality. "You'll just have to manage so the stool doesn't turn, that's all. Try it again."
Moon rose over the trees and accomplished the difficult feat of holding the stool still and beaming at the same time with a fair degree of success, and the rehearsal began.
"Oh-Pshaw, you're forgetting to salute!" called Nyoda when Second Soldier had finished his speech. "There, that's all right, now don't forget to do it the next time. Now you get behind the Moon and hold her up through the next scene. She's wobbling again. What comes next? Oh, yes, here's where I come in."
Throwing down her prompting book and setting the partially cocked hat upon her head, Nyoda made a flourishing entrance upon the stage as the Father of her Country, and the second touching scene of the drama was enacted, in which George is informed by the sentry that "we ain't got no flag to fight this here Revolution with," and soothingly promises to "see Betsy." Just as George was delivering his reassuring promise Trees felt a fly walking across her nose and sneezed a tremendous sneeze, sending Guns sprawling upon the floor.
"Gracious, Hinpoha, can't you hold still a minute?" sighed Nyoda, pushing the hat up from her left eye where it had hung ever since she had knocked it crooked returning the sentry's salute. "And who's going to work our 'Quick Curtain' there?"
"Oh, either Slim or the Captain can draw the curtain for us," said Hinpoha.
"But we want it all to be a surprise for them," Sahwah reminded her. "They're not supposed to know anything about it."
"Well, grandmother can draw the curtain, then," said Agony.
"But she's supposed to be in the audience, too," objected Oh-Pshaw.
"Why, you can draw the curtain, you're not doing anything at the end of this scene!" exclaimed Nyoda triumphantly to Oh-Pshaw. "Second Soldier goes out after his one speech and doesn't come on again."
"I'm a rocking chair in the last scene, though," Oh-Pshaw reminded her.
Nyoda thought deeply for a moment. "We'll have to do without that one rocking chair in the last act. You'll have to draw the curtain. No show is complete without a quick curtain at the end. How can we have curtain calls without a curtain? Anyway, we don't need three rocking chairs, two are plenty."
So Oh-Pshaw good-naturedly shifted her role from rocking chair to curtain puller.
"Next scene, home of Betsy Ross," proclaimed Nyoda. "Trees, you'll have to turn into a chair in this scene, and More Trees, you turn into another chair. Guns, you will become a spinet and a spinning wheel respectively, and Moon, you'll turn into a table. First Soldier, you'll become Betsy Ross. Now then! All the stage settings get in place for the last scene!"
The two chairs solemnly began to rock back and forth on their heels, causing the Spinning Wheel to go off into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and Betsy Ross, hearing George's knock, rose to answer it, but, catching sight of the two rocking chairs, promptly doubled up on the floor instead of letting George in.
"I can't do anything if they're going to rock," gasped Betsy.
"You'll have to get used to it," said Nyoda emphatically. "We want those rocking chairs, they're the funniest part of the show. Don't look at them if you can't keep a straight face. Now start again. Where's your baby? Here, take this towel for a baby until you can find a doll.
"Now, remember, when I come in you say 'Hello, George,' in a very familiar tone, and when I say, 'Gee, ain't it fierce, we ain't go no flag to fight this here Revolution with,' you say, 'I know, ain't it fierce! Here, you hold the baby and I'll make one.' Then you give me the baby and I walk up and down while you sew, and the baby screams all the while—Oh-Pshaw, you'll have to make the noise for the baby behind the scenes. Now, all ready!"
George came in, with a yardstick tied around his waist for a sword, and made a deep bow which made the spinet giggle violently. "'Gee, ain't it fierce—' Stop laughing, Sahwah, remember you're the scenery!"
Sahwah lasted until the towel baby was laid in the arms of the Commander-in-Chief, and Oh-Pshaw, trying to imitate the noise of a crying baby behind the scenes, emitted a series of yelps which were harrowingly suggestive of a large yellow dog going through the meat chopper. It was too much for the rest of the scenery; the rocking chair howled, the spinning wheel choked, the table wept into her handkerchief, and even George's composure forsook him and he and Betsy fell up against each other and shouted.
"Good gracious, Oh-Pshaw, a baby doesn't cry like that! It makes a wailing noise in a high key. Try it again, now."
Oh-Pshaw amended her vocal efforts so that the results were not fatal, and the historical First Edition of the Stars and Stripes proceeded without further mishap.
"Where's the flag I'm to hold up when it's done?" demanded Betsy.
"Who brought the flag along?" asked Nyoda.
The spinet suddenly clapped a hand to her brow. "I left it on the porch at Carver House!" she exclaimed. "I was going to bring it along with the rest of the things, and then I forgot it. Shall I go and get it?"
"Never mind," said Nyoda, "we'll get along without it now and bring it along when we come over to-night. Come on, now, go through the whole thing once more, and then we're finished. Oh-Pshaw, while you're not on the stage, you make the signs for the scenery, TREES, MORE TREES, GUNS—make two signs for Guns—MOON, etc., and on the other side paint CHAIR, TABLE, SPINNING WHEEL, SPINET, etc., so all the scenery will have to do is turn the signs around on themselves when they change from the first to the second scenes."
All the above commotion was in preparation for the party which Agony and Oh-Pshaw were giving that night in honor of Slim's birthday. The birthday was already past, it is true, but it was still recent enough to make it a legitimate excuse for a party. The Winnebagos, as usual, could not have a party without some select private theatricals in honor of the occasion.
The rehearsal over, Nyoda and the Winnebagos wended their way back to Carver House to get ready for the evening.
"Kaiser Bill's out!" exclaimed Sahwah, as they approached the house. "I just saw him jump the hedge and run around the side of the house with something red in his mouth."
"The cover of the porch table!" exclaimed Nyoda. "Run, head him off, quick!"
They sped into the yard and round the side of the house as the sportive Kaiser doubled in his tracks and missed them by an inch.
"Oh, he's got the flag!" shrieked Sahwah. "I left it on the porch! Get it! Get it! He's got it half eaten!" They gave strenuous chase, but the wily Capricorn, mischief sparkling in his wicked eyes, eluded them again and again, and each time they passed him there was less of the flag hanging out of his mouth. Not until the last shred was gulped down did he suffer himself to be cowed by the persistent umbrella in Nyoda's hand, and then he came to a stand in a triumphant attitude, and on his face was the satisfied expression of an epicure who has just discovered a rare new dainty to tickle his palate.
The Winnebagos looked at each other and were speechless with horror. Kaiser Bill had eaten up the American flag!
Nyoda recovered herself first, and the Winnebagos saw her in one of her rare moods of anger.
"This is the last straw!" she exclaimed indignantly. "He's chewed up two sofa pillows and a twelve-dollar hammock and no end of books; he destroyed Sahwah's kite last week; he's broken the windows in the greenhouse three or four times; he's ruined large numbers of valuable plants; and still I bore with him patiently for old Hercules' sake. But I won't stand it any longer. I'm tired of being kept in hot water by that fiendish old goat. He's the terror of the neighbors, and I live in hourly expectation of damage suits that will ruin me. Now I've reached the limit of endurance. Either that goat leaves Carver House or I do, and as Carver House belongs to me and Kaiser Bill doesn't, I reckon he'll be the one to go."
"What are you going to do with him?" asked Sahwah.
"Oh, give him away, or sell him—anything," replied Nyoda.
"Hercules, come here!" she called, as she spied a kinky white head bobbing around in the barnyard.
Hercules approached with a painfully stew, shuffling gait. "What is it, Mis' Elizabeth?" he inquired mildly, eyeing his mistress with affection in his look.
"Hercules," said Nyoda crisply, "we're going to get rid of that goat."
"What's 'at ol' goat bin a-doin', honey?" quavered Hercules anxiously.
"He's eaten up the American flag!" replied Nyoda in an outraged tone. "This is positively the last straw. I put up with several hundred dollars' worth of damage about the place, but this is too much. Do you realize what he's done? He's eaten up the American flag!"
"Why-e-e-e-e-e!" exclaimed Hercules, and then, "Lord a-massy! Kaiser Bill," he remarked reproachfully, "ain't I done fetched you up no better'n 'at?"
"Do you know of anyone who would take him?" asked Nyoda.
The old man considered, with his head in his hands. "Oh, Mis' Elizabeth, you-all ain't goin' ter give dat goat away?" he broke out pleadingly. "'At goat's lived here all his life, deed he has, Mis' Elizabeth, an' he wouldn' feel to home nowheres else!"
But for once Nyoda stood her ground and refused to be cajoled.
"Mis' Elizabeth," said old Hercules solemnly, when all pleading had been in vain, "you-all ain' goin' ter give 'at goat away, because you-all can't give him away! Ain't anybody livin' 'at can give dat goat away! He'd come back just as fast as you'd give him away! 'At ol' Kaiser's a mighty foxy goat. Ain't no door bin invented 'at he can't break down!"
The old man's voice quavered triumphantly, and he winked at the goat solemnly. Nyoda had a mental vision of Kaiser Bill putting on a Return from Elba act every day in the future, and her resolution took a sudden hardy turn.
"You're right," she said. "It wouldn't do any good to give him away. He'd come back. The only way to get rid of him is to kill him. Then we'll be sure he can't come back."
Hercules looked at her unbelievingly, and shook his head.
"I mean it," repeated Nyoda. "I'm going to get rid of that goat."
She stood still, waiting for the torrent of dissuading argument that would presently come from Hercules' lips, intending to cut it short, but the flow never came. Just when Hercules had his mouth open to begin there came a sudden earthquake shock from behind, and he found himself sitting in a flower bed a dozen feet away, rubbing his bruised knees and struggling to regain his breath. His first impression was that he had been run over by a locomotive.
When he could finally be persuaded that Kaiser Bill, base and ungrateful animal, had rewarded his championship of him by deliberately assaulting him with the full force of his concrete forehead, his heart was broken, and he mutely bowed to the decision of the judge.
"'T's all one ter me now," he said sadly. "Kaiser Bill done turn agin' ol' Hercules; ol' Hercules' heart broke now. Don' care whether you kill him er not. 'T's all one ter me."
"We'll have a Court Martial," announced Sahwah.
The Court Martial duly sat, and in a most formal manner Kaiser Bill was tried and convicted of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, and of traitorously destroying the American flag, and was sentenced to be shot at sunrise the next morning.
"Who's going to shoot him?" asked Hinpoha.
"Oh, we'll get Slim and the Captain to do it," replied Sahwah.
With the death sentence hanging over his head, the Kaiser was led away to await his execution.