"What a funny dream I had: I dreamed I was a young Indian, not John
Brown's 'little Indian,' but a real red, strapping, painted young
Indian, and our tribe was encamped over on the west side of this
Indian lake, by Otter Point; and I was dreadfully in love with the
chief's daughter."
"Who didn't love you again," said Theodore.
"Of course not, being a well-brought up young Indianess: and I went to the Indian spring, that runs into the pond, just above 'Barker's Landing,' that you all know of."
"I never knew that it was an Indian spring," said Young.
"Well, it is," replied Bart. "It has a sort of an earthen rim around it, or had a few minutes ago; and the water bubbles up from the bottom. Well, you drop a scarlet berry into it, and if it rises and runs over the rim, the sighed-for loves you, or she don't, and I have forgotten which. I found a scarlet head of ginseng, and dropped the seeds in one after another, and they all plumped straight to the bottom."
"Well, what was the conclusion?"
"Logical. The berries were too heavy for the current, or the current was too weak for the berries."
"And the Indianess?"
"She and all else faded out."
"Oh, pshaw! how silly!" said Young. "Will you take the spear, or won't you?"