Billy had wavered between Elnora and the motor, but his loyal little soul had been true to her, so the walk to the cottage began with him at her side.  Long before they arrived the little O’Mores had crowded around and captured Billy, and he was giving them an expurgated version of Mrs. Comstock’s tales of Big Foot and Adam Poe, boasting that Uncle Wesley had been in the camps of Me-shin-go-me-sia and knew Wa-ca-co-nah before he got religion and dressed like white men; while the mighty prowess of Snap as a woodchuck hunter was done full justice.  When they reached the cottage Philip took Billy aside, showed him the emerald ring and gravely asked his permission to marry Elnora.  Billy struggled to be just, but it was going hard with him, when Alice, who kept close enough to hear, intervened.

“Why don’t you let them get married?” she asked.  “You are much too small for her.  You wait for me!”

Billy studied her intently.  At last he turned to Ammon.  “Aw, well!  Go on, then!” he said gruffly.  “I’ll marry Alice!”

Alice reached her hand.  “If you got that settled let’s put on our Indian clothes, call the boys, and go to the playhouse.”

“I haven’t got any Indian clothes,” said Billy ruefully.

“Yes, you have,” explained Alice.  “Father bought you some coming from the dock.  You can put them on in the playhouse.  The boys do.”

Billy examined the playhouse with gleaming eyes.

Never had he encountered such possibilities.  He could see a hundred amusing things to try, and he could not decide which to do first.  The most immediate attraction seemed to be a dead pine, held perpendicularly by its fellows, while its bark had decayed and fallen, leaving a bare, smooth trunk.

“If we just had some grease that would make the dandiest pole to play Fourth of July with!” he shouted.

The children remembered the Fourth.  It had been great fun.

“Butter is grease.  There is plenty in the ’frigerator,” suggested Alice, speeding away.

Billy caught the cold roll and began to rub it against the tree excitedly.

“How are you going to get it greased to the top?” inquired Terry.

Billy’s face lengthened.  “That’s so!” he said.  “The thing is to begin at the top and grease down.  I’ll show you!”

Billy put the butter in his handkerchief and took the corners between his teeth.  He climbed the pole, greasing it as he slid down.

“Now, I got to try first,” he said, “because I’m the biggest and so I have the best chance; only the one that goes first hasn’t hardly any chance at all, because he has to wipe off the grease on himself, so the others can get up at last.  See?”

“All right!” said Terry.  “You go first and then I will and then Alice.  Phew!  It’s slick.  He’ll never get up.”

Billy wrestled manfully, and when he was exhausted he boosted Terry, and then both of them helped Alice, to whom they awarded a prize of her own doll.  As they rested Billy remembered.