boys and girls she had heard so much about during the past few days.
Her opinions, already formed of how such athletic young folks would
look, underwent a sudden change. Before she had quite finished her
survey, Trixie admitted to herself that she had never met a group of
such fine-looking happy young people.
She turned to Aunt Edith and remarked, “You didn’t exaggerate a bit,
Mrs. Charlton, when you told me how picturesque the costumes were and
how very interesting the Island is.”
“I am glad you like it, but really you know, these costumes are for
ceremonial occasions only. No one could run or feel free in them for
actual camp-life. We have a suitable uniform for every-day use,”
returned Aunt Edith.
During this interview, Mrs. Remington and Mrs. Farwell were giving
Bridget with “the secret” (an immense layer cake) into Mose’s charge,
for there were to be refreshments served at the end of the Council.
“Come along now, Woodcrafters--it’s nearly three o’clock,” reminded
Billy, leading the way to the Council place.
The others followed and soon Fred, in full costume, took the Council
Chair and opened the meeting by proclaiming: “Meetah Kola, nayhoonpo
omnicheeyey nee-chopi”--meaning, “Hear me my friends, we are about to
hold a council.”
“Shingebis will now light the Council Fire after the manner of the
Forest Children,” ordered Wita-tonkan, the Island Chief, turning to
Billy as he spoke.
Then Shingebis, “The Northern Diver,” brought his fire-sticks to the
centre of the Council Ring and proceeded to make fire by rubbing the
sticks briskly until an almost imperceptible wisp of smoke curled up
from the tiny heap of black wood-dust that fell into the fire-pan
under the sticks. More and denser smoke followed.
The moment a spark glowed in this powder, the group of Woodcrafters
greeted it with a “How!” and a louder chorus of “Hows” sounded as a
flame burst forth from the handful of tinder which Shingebis applied.
“Now know we that Wakonda hath been pleased to smile upon us,” said
Wita-tonkan, solemnly.
A few moments after the fire was burning well, the Chief took up the
peace-pipe and explained that he was about to perform the peace-pipe
ceremony.
“First I light the cedar bark and kinnikinick, or dried red ozier
dogwood bark, in the bowl of the pipe. Now I offer the peace-pipe to
Wakonda, the Great Spirit and Maka Ina, Mother Earth, imploring their
presence at the Council. The whole Council must answer ‘Noon-way’ or
amen to these prayers.
“Then I proceed to beg each of the Four Winds in turn to do us no harm
from cyclone, cold, rain or heat. All present will please respond
‘Noon-way’ as before.”
The visitors were quite impressed and when the first prayer came,
“Hay-oon-kee-ya” (Be with us) the response was fervent. Then, as
the pipe was presented to the West Wind, and Wita-tonkan cried,
“Hay-oon-kee-oon-ee-ya-snee” (Come not upon us) the chorus of
“noon-ways” was so loud that Mose and Bridget who were now busy in the
bungalow making lemonade, fairly jumped.
“When Ah git done wid dis lemyonade Ah’se goin’ out behin’ dose rocks
an’ watch d’ show,” declared Mose.
“Shure, an’ Oi’ll be wid’ye,” promised Bridget, emphatically.
The peace-pipe ceremony being concluded and the Tally read, Wita-tonkan
suggested that, there being so many visitors present, they make short
work of preliminary business matters and proceed directly to the
claiming of the _Coups_.
“Are there any Honours to be claimed?” called Wita-tonkan.
“Oh Chief!” said Miriam, standing up instantly to show her father
her knowledge of Woodcraft, “I claim an Honour for standing
broad-jump--five and a half feet.”
“Have you the claim properly attested by three witnesses?” asked the
Chief.
“Here it is,” replied Miriam, holding out a paper. “And moreover, my
witnesses are present in Council.”
“Come forward, Miriam,” announced Wita-tonkan, taking the claim from
her hand. He read it aloud to the assembled Council and asked, “You
have all heard this claim, properly made out and witnessed, and now
what is the pleasure of the Council regarding this matter?”
Shingebis stood, saluted and said, “Oh Chief! I move that this Honour
be awarded.”
Paul now stood, saluted and said, “Oh Chief! I second this motion.”
Wita-tonkan then said to the assembly, “This claim has been duly moved
and seconded and now, it is ready for the vote, there being no question
of its validity. The Council will please make its wishes known by
saying ‘How’ for approval, and ‘Wah’ for dissent.”
Then the loud chorus of “hows” brought Mose and Bridget running from
the kitchen to the vantage point back of the boulder.
The Chief, taking Miriam by the hand, congratulated her and presented
her with the _coup_ feather symbolising her attainment. She smilingly
took her seat amid the pleased murmurs of the Pentagoet Tribe.
“Any more Honours to be claimed?” asked the Chief.
“Oh Chief! I have at last completed the requirements for the last rank
in the Little Lodge,” cried Paul, springing to his feet. “I was eleven
years old last month, so I am anxious to do this before I pass into the
Big Lodge.”
Paul had various sheets of paper signed by his witnesses at different
times throughout the past year which he now presented to the Chief.
Wita-tonkan read them aloud to the Council.
“Know one wild bird for each year of your age.”
“Oh Chief! I really know a lot more than eleven birds--I am trying for
the Bird _coup_,” explained Paul, proudly.
Wita-tonkan continued: “Know one wild four-footed animal for each year
of your age.”
“I knew twelve animals my first year in Woodcraft,” said Paul.
“Know one forest tree for each year of your age.”
“I know more than enough for that too; we found so many kinds of trees
at Wickeecheokee Farm last summer when the Little Woodcrafters spent a
week in camp there,” explained Paul.
“Know one wild flower for each year of your age.”
“Oh, I know nearly enough to win the flower _coup_,” boasted Paul,
looking around at the others.
“Know one garden-flower or shrub for each year of your age.”
Paul nodded that he had done this also.
So Wita-tonkan read on to the last of the requirements now accomplished
by Paul, until he read the last one which was: “Know one constellation
for each year of age.”
“Oh, I got that one easy! I only had to know three, but I was so near
twelve years, that I just learned another one to make four for good
measure,” ventured Paul.
“Which is the good measure?” laughed Wita-tonkan.
“I found Orion and know all about him,” declared Paul, then he
proceeded to describe the Hunter with his Club.
Bridget, listening intently to this part of the Council procedure,
gasped at the information vouched for by Paul.
“Mose, shure an’ that hunter must hev been me ancistor--O’ryan! He war
a king ov Oireland, God bliss the old Sod! An’ Oi’m tould that O’ryan
alwiss carried a cloob too: a black t’horn cloob it war!”
Moses looked sceptically at the rotund figure of the Farwell’s cook and
doubted the truth of her imperial descent. But the name suddenly struck
him as being familiar and he remembered where he had heard it so often.
“Agh, shucks! It isn’t yo’ ancestor, Bridget, at all! They be talkin’
’bout th’ Charlton’s motor launch--dat’s called ’Ryan affer a bunch ov
stars!” declared Moses, complacently.
“Shure, an’ don’ ye’se tink Oi don’ know me own fam’ly histry ov all
th’ great men what come from th’ ole sod!” scorned Bridget, turning her
broad back disdainfully upon Mose. “An’ don’t Oi know it war afther me
great-grand-fayther that Misther Cha’ton named his boat ‘O’ryan’!”
While the controversy lasted between the native of the Sunny South and
the descendant of Kings from the Emerald Isle, Paul had the last tassel
of inexperience cut from his Woodcrafter’s Badge and took his seat
with a sense of having accomplished something worth while.
The Chief then found no other Honours to be claimed so he proceeded to
the entertainment of the guests present.
“Are there any Braves eager to challenge each other?” asked he.
“Oh Chief! I challenge Shingebis to a hand-wrestling match!” called
Dudley, known in Council as Wahdago.
“I accept, Oh Chief!” replied Billy, quickly.
Then followed a mortal combat (?) between the two equally experienced
Braves, until both were red in the face and puffing for wind. In the
end, Wahdago lost an opportunity and Shingebis was quick to avail
himself of the mistake. Thus the contest ended by awarding Billy the
victory.
“Any more challenges?” came from the Chief.
“Oh Chief! I challenge Paul to a canoe tilting contest,” called Billy.
“I propose that we defer that contest for the present and watch any
game or match that needs to take place in the circle. We will go down
to Treasure Cove later for the water sports,” advised Fred.
Then Uncle Bill jumped up and raised his hand in salute. “Oh Chief! I
challenge any one present to recite original poetry written for this or
a similar occasion which has not yet been heard by others.”
“I accept that challenge, Oh Chief,” laughed Elizabeth, sending a
knowing glance at her Aunt Miriam.
Thereupon, Uncle Bill drew forth a paper and cleared his throat. Having
made obeisance to the Chief and then to the guests, he read:
Mpret.
On Albania’s throne
When the war clouds met
Shivering alone
Sat little Mpret.
Said he to himself
“As Wilyum of Wied
There was far less pelf
But much less need
Of a quiet nest
Where a prince might dream
And sure of his rest
Let his medals gleam.
Now this ‘safety first’
Is good dope, I wot:
This war is accursed
I’ll go on my yacht.”
The throne is empty:
“It’s the one best bet,
It will stay that way!”
Said little Mpret.
Applause greeted the conclusion of this little skit and Uncle Bill
resumed his seat, bowing with a conqueror’s air, as if to say he knew
the laurels were his. But he also knew that he had no mean competitor
in Elizabeth, who now stood up and prefaced her verse.
“Every one here knows that the first sail of the season is not all
joy--particularly if it is choppy, or if there is a heavy sea on
and the wind falls and the craft bobs around helplessly. If you are
not accustomed to the motion and you lose interest in the sights and
sounds, you may also begin to lose other things as well.”
Several of those present began to laugh for they sensed the trend
of Elizabeth’s prologue as referring to a sickly time Uncle Bill
experienced during his first sail on troubled waters.
“My poem is called ‘Sea-sick,’” explained Elizabeth.
“The mate was sick, the Captain too,
The passengers and ‘hand’;
The breeze was strong enough to slew
The boat around the strand.
The waves were some unpleasant heights;
They bumped the trusty boat
We lay beneath the seats and sights,
And wished we weren’t afloat.
A land-loom came into our view,
A hull-down took from sight,
The hulls of tugs and steamers blue--
But we wished it was night.
A herd of porpoises then came
And bobbed about our ship:
We had no wish to see a fish--
The sky-line seemed to dip.
We tacked our boat and went ashore
And had a solid meal.
We did not want to feel much more
The way we just did feel!”
When Elizabeth finished, every one cried “How” and Aunt Edith declared
she was deeply affected by the vivid description--it almost made her
seasick!
“Who was mate on that trip?” asked Uncle Tom.
“Fred was mate and I was the ‘hand’ but I won’t tell tales on the
Captain--let him speak for himself,” laughed Elizabeth.
“Well, I was the passenger and I can swear to _my_ feelings,” exclaimed
Billy, looking at his Uncle Bill.
But Uncle Bill returned the look boldly and murmured: “From what you
say, that sure must have been some sail!”
“Wah! Wah!” cried a number of voices and everyone laughed.
The poetry had to be judged for other virtues than mere fidelity of
description, so the “palm” was awarded to the composer of “Mpret.”
Following this verse contest, Billy announced that he and two friends
would produce a moving picture play depicting a jitney in distress. So
many impromptu additions were shown that the rough and tumble “movie”
was highly applauded by the other children.
This over, the Chief stood up. “For a change in the programme, I think
we will call upon Pah-hlee-oh, The Moon Maid, to entertain us by
dancing the Storm Cloud.”
Fred had signalled Elizabeth while the Jitney act was being done, and
she slipped away from the circle unseen by the others. At the beating
of the tom-toms she now appeared from behind a group of trees, holding
a long white veil behind her head. The veil was of chiffon and the
light breeze wafted it gracefully about as the dancer entered the
Council Ring.
The Storm Cloud dance is one of the most graceful of the Indian Dances
and Elizabeth was well-trained so a genuine treat was given the
visitors that day.
Then to the surprise of every one present, Uncle Tom stood and said, “I
challenge Uncle Bill to a tub-tilting match.”
This also proved a great success, for Uncle Bill, always ready to
provoke fun and laughter, did his part with great gusto. The result
was that the exact rules were not followed but far greater sport was
furnished by the two heavy performers in unexpected actions and twists
and ferocious grimaces.
After a Folk Song contest and Character Dances were given, every one
walked down to the Cove to watch the canoe tilting between the two boys
with Captain Ed and Benton as seconds. This was interesting as the boys
were well matched, but Billy came off victorious at last, having upset
his opponent by thrusting the soft-padded pole suddenly in the pit of
his stomach.
Billy and Dudley dressed and then a Talk Fest was started by the Chief
against Dudley; as they finished the victory was accorded Dudley with
the remark, “He’s the fastest talker on the hemisphere!”
The appearance of Mose, carrying a huge tray of refreshments, now
put to flight any other ideas of sport, and when the ever-hungry
Woodcrafters were satisfied, the obliging waiter flopped down in a
kitchen chair and looked wearily up at Bridget for consolation.
“Ah d’clare t’ goodness, d’ way dem fo’kses ack in dat Woodcraf’
bisnis, an’ den go an’ git such empty stomacks, is amusin’ t’ me! Jus’
look at dem vacant plates--would yo’ b’lieve dey had ben piled up high
wid san’witches an’ fixin’s t’ say nuffin of th’ cake an’ lemyonade!”
Bridget had been taxed to the limit by the great demand for lemonade,
and she sniffed disdainfully: “’Twar mesilf ez beat twelve aigs in th’
layer cake! No wonder it melted away like snow in July! Not a crumb fer
the cook, ayther!”
Mose looked compassionately at the defrauded cook and remarked: “Ah’ve
hearn say dat a _good_ chef neveh gits lef’ fo’ a bite! Now Ah’m a
_fust_-class cook so Ah had a good big snack o’ dat twelve aig cake
befoh it passed outen my control!”
Bridget sent Mose a resentful look and flounced angrily from the
kitchen, while Mose shook with silent amusement at his competitor in
culinary arts.
The guests departed in the sunset glow and the Pentagoet Tribe felt
that they had acquitted themselves unusually well, thereby earning a
good night’s sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
WINNING THE DEGREE OF SHINGEBIS
For the next few days the Island Tribe was busy getting up Swimming
_Coups_. Shingebis made sure he had passed the necessary tests for the
Swimming Degree. He had won the _coup_ for swimming one hundred yards a
long time before but had now to swim with all clothes on. This promised
to be great sport and every one looked forward to the exhibition with
delight.
The morning dawned bright and warm. By eleven A. M. the sun shone hot
upon the calm bay, and the high tide before luncheon was just what was
wanted for the exhibitors.
Miriam and her little sister Betty arrived about ten o’clock and
shortly after, the Rosemary Aunt and Uncle with Trixie came scrambling
up the steps from the floating-stage. Soon the procession of “Annette
Kellermans” in rubber bathing caps of every colour, and the boys
brown-legged and brown-armed, ran down the well-worn path leading to
Treasure Cove, a genuine Island sight.
Suddenly Fred stopped and turned to Billy who unexpectedly collided
with him.
“Say! We forgot the sand bag!” exclaimed Fred.
“Gee! So we have--I’ll run back and hunt one,” offered Billy, starting
for the bungalow to find a bag that would hold the necessary five
pounds of sand.
“I’ll go, too!” called Paul, following Billy.
At the kitchen door, Billy hailed the cook.
“Say, Mose, got a bag that’ll hold five pounds?” asked Billy, looking
about quickly.
“Wha’fo’, Chile?” wondered Mose, suspiciously.
“Oh, I have to do a stunt for a _coup_--a strong white salt bag will
do.”
“Ah reckon Ah kin len’ yo’ th’ cook-salt bag but don’ yo’ go an’ waste
enny salt outen the bag. Ah jes’ got this lot o’ salt an’ its gotta
las’ me a fo’tnight!” As he spoke Mose took the full salt-bag from the
shelf to hand to Billy.
“Pooh! We can’t use your old salt--all I want is the _bag_!” laughed
Billy, rummaging about in the kitchen cupboard.
“See heah, Bo! don yo’ go t’ dislodgin’ m’ pots an’ pans now! Jes’
give Mose time t’ dig out a bag, will yo’?” So saying, the southern
cook yanked a crate out from a corner and lifted a heavy burlap bag
therefrom.
“How’s dis? It’ll onny take a shake t’ dump out th’ rock salt--er kin
yo’ use the hull thing jus’ as it is?”
Billy laughed and Paul declared, “Mose, you’re a numm-skull, sure as
shootin’.”
“You see, Mose,” explained Billy, “before that bag of salt was in the
water very long it would be melted and a cinch for any diver to bring
up from the bottom. I am going to try out the test for diving and we
must have a white bag holding just five pounds of sand. White, so I can
see it under water, you know. The sand will wash out of a loose-meshed
bag like burlap, and it wouldn’t weigh more than two or three pounds by
the time I had it on shore, and that wouldn’t be fair.”
“Sho, nuff! A flour bag is jus what yo’ want--an’ Ah emptied one dis
mawnin’, too. Yo’ kin weigh five poun’s on dis scale, Ah reckon,”
agreed Mose, handing Billy the scale and going for the bag.
“By the way, Mose, aren’t you coming down to watch the fun?” asked
Paul, as they took the bag and started away.
“Ah shore am, Honey! Jes’ waitin’ t’ remove dis pan o’ biskits from d’
oven!”
“Let’s run across to the float and get another boat,” suggested Paul.
“Good idea--we’ll need an extra boat anyway,” approved Billy.
When the two boys arrived in Treasure Cove with the bag and scales,
Fred carefully weighed out five pounds of sand while Billy prepared
himself for the dive.
Paul stood watching Billy heft the bag of sand and became imbued with
the spirit of achievement.
“Ever try it before, Billy?” asked he.
“Lots of times, but never before three witnesses who will attest the
dive.”
“When you finish, guess I’ll do it, too!” said Paul.
“Maybe you think it’s easy, eh?” queried Billy, laughing.
“I’m a good diver now, and grabbing a bag of sand isn’t anything to
do,” said Paul, boastfully.
“Well, just try it!”
Fred had marked off a pole into foot lengths and this he placed in the
canoe. After paddling out to the middle of the Cove he used the pole
to measure the depths and when he had found the depth of eight or nine
feet he called to Elizabeth, who was following the canoe in a boat with
Billy and the bag of sand, for passenger and freight.
“Now lift that bag out and drop it carefully just here where the pole
stands--don’t fall over with it, though,” ordered Fred, watching as his
sister followed his directions.
“Bill, wait a few seconds for the ripples to settle and when you dive
look for the white object right under this spot.”
Billy did as he was told and in a few seconds he was in and almost
immediately after appeared again bringing the bag of sand up with him.
A loud chorus of “Hows” greeted him as he swam in to shore.
“Now I’m going to do it!” cried Paul.
“Why you never tried before,” said Miriam.
“No, but it’s so easy! I might as well pass the test now as later,”
bragged Paul, swimming out to the boat.
Fred had paddled in and now carried the bag out to the same place and
dropped it in but Paul, try as he would, could not find it.
“I know what’s the trouble--Paul doesn’t keep his eyes open. He closes
them tight the moment he strikes the water,” cried Elizabeth to Fred.
So Fred called to Paul, “How do you expect to find an object under
water if your eyes are shut?”
“I’m afraid to open them, it feels awful,” said Paul.
“Well, the sooner you learn to do that the better. No swimmer can
become expert if he dives or swims under water with closed eyes,”
remarked Fred, starting to paddle back to land.
“Oh Fred, while we are here let us try for a test for swimming the
breast, overhand, and crawl, in to shore,” cried Paul, and this was
done very well although Dudley did it better, having had much more
practice at home.
Meantime, Billy had dressed in a complete suit of old clothes--with
shoes, cap and coat--as he proposed to try the test of swimming with
all clothes on.
Wita-tonkan took the measuring tape and fastened it on one end of the
rock that jutted out over the Cove, then Elizabeth paddled the canoe
out to the required distance and waited. Edith, Paul and Billy followed
in the boat and stopped alongside the line of limit.
Every one was watching eagerly as Billy dove off the end of the boat
and swam for shore. Then, as he reached the rocky island and clambered
out, a chorus of “Hows” congratulated him.
“Huh! That was nothing! Now, watch me do some _real_ stunts in
swimming,” laughed he.
“Not to-day, Billy. Go and dress now and leave your fancy swimming for
another time,” advised Mrs. Remington.
Billy obeyed but his face expressed his reluctance.
Meantime Fred was sure that he could overturn a canoe in the water and
right it again if some one would stand by while he tried the difficult
stunt. Captain Ed offered his services.
While Fred was striving to accomplish this deed, some one suggested a
“splashing match” and before a place of dry safety could be reached by
the grown-ups who had been sitting near the edge of the water, every
one was liberally sprinkled by the merry water nymphs. So much noise
did they make indeed, that Aunt Edith called for more quiet.
“Oh, but noise is part of the game, you know!” retorted Billy, who was
watching from the sunny rocks since he could not take part in the fun.
The match ended when Paul ducked Edith under water. As soon as she
could sputter, she wildly denounced him, but Billy and Dudley laughed
heartily as they told her to “get even.”
Paul hurriedly got out of Edith’s way for she had very good muscle
for a girl and Paul had been made aware of its power several times
previously to this day.
Elizabeth was floating serenely when Edith confided to her that she had
kept her eyes open when Paul unexpectedly pushed her under water.
“And it felt so strange that I’m going to try it again.”
“That’s right! No diver is any good until he can see where he is going
or what he really is after under water. Why not get the others to try,
too,” replied Elizabeth.
So they were all trying to dive and keep their eyes open. “The one who
keeps his eyes open the longest while under water will be given an
extra dish of dessert at lunch time,” cried Billy.
“But it feels so funny to have the water biff your eyes,” commented
Paul, who had experimented when the others did.
“Why, I don’t know whether I see anything or not! I tried but couldn’t
see the white sand-bag,” said Dudley.
“Listen to the nutlet!” laughed Elizabeth. “Why, there is nothing _but_
water to see, ’cause the bag is in the boat. Here, hold this white
clam-shell under water about a yard or two away from your nose and
then tell me if you can see it!”
Elizabeth handed the clam-shell to Edith who offered to hold it for
Dudley or Paul. Paul clamoured for a trial and thus attracted Edith’s
attention to him. She had an idea then and there.
The clam-shell was held and Paul dove. The moment he was near enough to
her hand, Edith caught hold of his head and held it under water just as
he had done to her a short time before.
Forgetting his predicament, Paul tried to scream for help and a flood
of water poured into his mouth. Edith soon allowed her victim to come
up again, but he choked and coughed so with anger that every one
laughed at the case of “tit for tat.”
While this affray was going on, the watchers on the rock saw Fred try
in vain to empty the water out of the canoe after righting it, so Mrs.
Remington called out:
“Better desist at present--there are plenty of days to try again--Fred!”
Fred did not want to give in but the tide was running down and he was
nearly opposite the south end of the island at the time, so Captain Ed
helped to empty the canoe and the lad paddled back to the float in a
disappointed frame of mind.