“Yep, Great Chief; git a move on you.  Hustle out here.  Made a find.  Do you see who was visiting us last night while we slept?” and he pointed to the “album” on the inway.  “I hain’t shined them shoes every week with soot off the bottom of the pot without knowin’ that one pair of ‘em was wore by Ma an’ one of ’em by Da.  But let’s see how far they come.  Why, I orter looked round the teepee before tramplin’ round.”  They went back, and though the trails were much hidden by their own, they found enough around the doorway to show that during the night, or more likely late in the evening, the father and mother had paid them a visit in secret—­had inspected the camp as they slept, but finding no one stirring and the boys breathing the deep breath of healthy sleep, they had left them undisturbed.

“Say, boys—­I mean Great Chiefs—­what we want in camp is a Dog, or one of these nights some one will steal our teeth out o’ our heads an’ we won’t know a thing till they come back for the gums.  All Injun camps have Dogs, anyway.”

The next morning the Third War Chief was ordered out by the Council, first to wash himself clean, then to act as cook for the day.  He grumbled as he washed, that “’Twan’t no good—­he’d be all dirty again in two minutes,” which was not far from the truth.  But he went at the cooking with enthusiasm, which lasted nearly an hour.  After this he did not see any fun in it, and for once he, as well as the others, began to realize how much was done for them at home.  At noon Sappy set out nothing but dirty dishes, and explained that so long as each got his own it was all right.  His foot was very troublesome at meal time also.  He said it was the moving round when he was hurrying that made it so hard to bear, but in their expedition with bows and arrows later on he found complete relief.

“Say, look at the Red-bird,” he shouted, as a Tanager flitted onto a low branch and blazed in the sun.  “Bet I hit him first shot!” and he drew an arrow.

“Here you, Saphead,” said Sam, “quit that shooting at little birds.  It’s bad medicine.  It’s against the rules; it brings bad luck—­it brings awful bad luck.  I tell you there ain’t no worse luck than Da’s raw-hide—­that I know.”

“Why, what’s the good o’ playin’ Injun if we can’t shoot a blame thing?” protested Sappy.

“You kin shoot Crows an’ Jays if you like, an’ Woodchucks, too.”

“I know where there’s a Woodchuck as big as a Bear.”

“Ah!  What size Bear?”

“Well, it is.  You kin laugh all you want to.  He has a den in our clover field, an’ he made it so big that the mower dropped in an’ throwed Paw as far as from here to the crick.”

“An’ the horses, how did they get out?”

“Well!  It broke the machine, an’ you should have heard Paw swear.  My! but he was a socker.  Paw offered me a quarter if I’d kill the old whaler.  I borrowed a steel trap an’ set it in the hole, but he’d dig out under it an’ round it every time.  I’ll bet there ain’t anything smarter’n an old Woodchuck.”