o'd get the feathers if it was
chicken stealing."

"Say, Caleb," said Guy, who, being friendly and of the country, never
thought of calling the old man "Mr. Clark," "didn't they give feathers
for good Deer-hunting? I'll bet I could lick any of them at it if I
had a gun."

"Didn't you hear me say first thing that that there shot o' Yan's
should score a '_grand coup_'?"

"Oh, shucks! I kin lick Yan any time; that was just a chance shot.
I'll bet if you give feathers for Deer-hunting I'll get them all."

"We'll take you up on that," said the oldest Chief, but the next
interrupted:

"Say, boys, we want to play Injun properly. Let's get Mr. Clark to
show us how to make a real war bonnet. Then we'll wear only what
feathers we win."

"Ye mean by scalping the Whites an' horse-stealing?"

"Oh, no; there's lots of things we can do--best runner, best Deer
hunter, best swimmer, best shot with bow and arrows."

"All right." So they set about questioning Caleb. He soon showed them
how to put a war bonnet together, using, in spite of Yan's misgivings,
the crown of an old felt hat for the ground work and white goose
quills trimmed and dyed black at the tips for Eagle feathers. But when
it came to the deeds that were to be rewarded, each one had his own
ideas.

"If Sappy will go to the orchard and pick a peck of cherries without
old Cap gettin' _him_, I'll give him a feather with all sorts of
fixin's on it," suggested Sam.

"Well, I'll bet you can't get a chicken out of our barn 'thout our Dog
gettin' _you_, Mr. Smarty."

"Pooh! I ain't stealing chickens. Do you take me for a nigger? I'm a
noble Red-man and Head Chief at that, I want you to know, an' I've a
notion to collect that scalp you're wearin' now. You know it belongs
to me and Yan," and he sidled over, rolling his eye and working his
fingers in a way that upset Guy's composure. "And I tell you a feller
with one foot in the grave should have his thoughts on seriouser
things than chicken-stealing. This yere morbid cravin' for excitement
is rooinin' all the young fellers nowadays."

Yan happened to glance at Caleb. He was gazing off at nothing, but
there was a twinkle in his eye that Yan never before saw there.

"Let's go to the teepee. It's too hot out here. Come in, won't you,
Mr. Clark?"

"Hm. 'Tain't much cooler in here, even if it is shady," remarked the
old Trapper. "Ye ought to lift one side of the canvas and get some
air."

"Why, did the real Injuns do