rotch from the
other stick, and circling gracefully about, sped for his own goal. But
some youth at his heels leaped in air and with a sweep of his own stick
struck the other and sent the crotch spinning and doubling through the
air. A dozen other sticks were plunged after it, but it fell to the
ground, and then the fight reached its climax. The parties became one
wild, desperate, shouting, yelling, scrambling mob. Legs and arms seemed
to be flying everywhere, and the wonder was that a score of limbs and
necks were not broken. But it rarely hurts a boy to become hurt, and
though bruises were plenty, no one suffered serious harm. After a few
minutes' struggle, the crotch would be seen perched on the stick of one
of the boys, who, fighting his way through the mob, ran with astonishing
speed, with friends and foes converging upon him, and the certainty that
he would be tripped and sent flying heels over head, before he could
reach safety.

After awhile, when the prize had been gradually worked toward the goal
of the stronger party, some youth, by a piece of skill and daring,
would make a dash for home and bear down all opposition. It followed, of
course, that his side had won, and, after a brief rest, the game was
renewed and pressed with the same vigor as before.

This Indian boy's game is still played by many Indian tribes. Among the
Senecas it is called "Gah-haw-ge," and I make no doubt that more than
one reader of these pages has witnessed the exciting amusement, which so
thrilled the blood of Jack Carleton that he could hardly restrain
himself from taking part in the fun. But he had no crotched stick,
without which he would have been a cypher, and then, as he had never
attempted the game, he knew he possessed no skill. The venture would
have been rash, for in the excited state of the Indian youths, and armed
as they were with sticks, it is almost certain that at some stage of the
game they would have turned on the pale face and beaten him to death.

The rough amusement lasted fully two hours, during which Jack Carleton
and many of the warriors were interested spectators. At last the
youngsters became weary and the sport ended. As the stumpy youths
straggled apart, the perspiration on their faces caused them to shine
like burnished copper. All at once one of them emitted a whoop and broke
into a swift run, the rest instantly falling in behind him, and speeding
with the same hilarious jollity.

The heart of Jack Car