They soon found that they needed guards for the left arm where the bow strings struck, and these they made out of the leg of an old boot (see Cut page 183), and an old glove to protect the fingers of the right hand when they practised very much.  After they learned to obey the rules without thinking about them, the boys improved quickly and soon they were able to put all the arrows into the hay sack at twenty yards, increasing the distance later till they could make fair shooting at forty yards.

They were not a little surprised to find how much individuality the arrows had, although meant to be exactly alike.

Sam had one that continued to warp until it was much bent, and the result was some of the most surprising curves in its flight.  This he called the “Boomerang.”  Another, with a very small feather, travelled farther than any of the rest.  This was the “Far-killer.”  His best arrow, one that he called “Sure-death,” was a long-feathered Turkey shaft with a light head.  It was very reliable on a calm day, but apt to swerve in the wind.  Yet another, with a small feather, was correspondingly reliable on a windy day.  This was “Wind-splitter.”

The one Yan whittled with the knife was called the “Whittler,” and sometimes the “Joker.”  It was a perpetual mystery, they never knew just what it would do next.  His particular pet was one with a hollow around the point, which made a whistling sound when it flew, and was sometimes called the “Whistler” and sometimes the “Jabberwock,” “which whiffled through the tulgy wood and burbled as it came.”

[Illustration:  CORRECT FORM IN SHOOTING The diagram at bottom is to show the centres of heels in line with target.]

X

The Dam

One hot day early in July they were enjoying themselves in the shallow bathing-hole of the creek, when Sam observed:  “It’s getting low.  It goes dry every summer.”

This was not pleasing to foresee, and Yan said, “Why can’t we make a dam?”

“A little too much like work.”

“Oh, pshaw!  That’d be fun and we’d have a swimming-place for all summer, then.  Come on; let’s start now.”

“Never heard of Injuns doing so much work.”

“Well, we’ll play Beaver while we do it.  Come on, now; here’s for a starter,” and Yan carried a big stone to what seemed to him the narrowest place.  Then he brought more, and worked with enthusiasm till he had a line of stones right across the creek bed.

Sam still sat naked on the bank, his knees to his chin and his arms around them.  The war-paint was running down his chest in blue and red streaks.

“Come on, here, you lazy freak, and work,” cried Yan, and flung a handful of mud to emphasize the invite.

“My festered knee’s broke out again,” was the reply.

At length Yan said, “I’m not going to do it all alone,” and straightened up his back.