“Is he there yet?” asked War Chief No. 2.

“You just bet he is.  Why, he has half an acre of clover all eat up.”

“Let’s try to get him,” said Yan.  “Can we find him?”

“Well, I should say so.  I never come by but I see the old feller.  He’s so big he looks like a calf, an’ so old an’ wicked he’s gray-headed.”

“Let’s have a shot at him,” suggested the Woodpecker.  “He’s fair game.  Maybe your Paw’ll give us a quarter each if we kill him.”

Guy snickered.  “Guess you don’t know my Paw,” then he giggled bubblously through his nose again.

Arrived at the edge of the clover, Sam asked, “Where’s your Woodchuck?”

“Right in there.”

“I don’t see him.”

“Well, he’s always here.”

“Not now, you bet.”

“Well, this is the very first time I ever came here and didn’t see him.  Oh, I tell you, he’s a fright.  I’ll bet he’s a blame sight bigger’n that stump.”

“Well, here’s his track, anyway,” said Woodpecker, pointing to some tracks he had just made unseen with his own broad palm.

“Now,” said Sappy, in triumph.  “Ain’t he an old socker?”

“Sure enough.  You ain’t missed any cows lately, have you?  Wonder you ain’t scared to live anyways near!”

IV

A “Massacree” of Palefaces

“Say, fellers, I know where there’s a stavin’ Birch tree—­do you want any bark?”

“Yes, I want some,” said Little Beaver.

“But hold on; I guess we better not, coz it’s right on the edge o’ our bush, an’ Paw’s still at the turnips.”

“Now if you want a real war party,” said the Head Chief, “let’s massacree the Paleface settlement up the crick and get some milk.  We’re just out, and I’d like to see if the place has changed any.”

So the boys hid their bows and arrows and headdresses, and, forgetting to take a pail, they followed in Indian file the blazed trail, carefully turning in their toes as they went and pointing silently to the track, making signs of great danger.  First they crawled up, under cover of one of the fences, to the barn.  The doors were open and men working at something.  A pig wandered in from the barnyard.  Then the boys heard a sudden scuffle, and a squeal from the pig as it scrambled out again, and Raften’s voice:  “Consarn them pigs!  Them boys ought to be here to herd them.”  This was sufficiently alarming to scare the Warriors off in great haste.  They hid in the huge root-cellar and there held a council of war.

“Here, Great Chiefs of Sanger,” said Yan, “behold I take three straws.  That long one is for the Great Woodpecker, the middle size is for Little Beaver, and the short thick one with the bump on the end and a crack on top is Sappy.  Now I will stack them up in a bunch and let them fall, then whichever way they point we must go, for this is Big Medicine.”

So the straws fell.  Sam’s straw pointed nearly to the house, Yan’s a little to the south of the house, and Guy’s right back home.