“Pooh!” said Kenneth, who did not believe in fairies. But he decided to help eat the berries. The two sat down on the pine-bough sofa and began to dip out handful after handful. And the luncheon tasted so good that they spoke hardly a word for five minutes. The wigwam was as quiet as before they had come.
CHAPTER II
INDIANS
SUDDENLY, outside the wigwam, a twig snapped. There was,—yes, there certainly was a rustle in the bushes. Steps were creeping towards the wigwam. It sounded like an Indian. Kenneth grabbed his bow and arrows. Rose kept very still, but her fingers trembled. They both sat staring at the door of the wigwam.
Stealthily a face came peering around the side of the door—a dark, reddish-brown face, with bright eyes. Then another face appeared; then another. It seemed as if the fog were full of eager faces and shiny, black eyes.
“It is the Indians!” said Kenneth to himself. “At last they have really come!” He lifted his bow and pointed the arrow at the face of the tallest Indian. But just as he was about to let the arrow fly, the head in the doorway moved and a voice cried,—
KENNETH AND ROSE SEE A STRANGE FACE IN THE WIGWAM
“Don’t shoot! I am a friend.”
Kenneth’s arm dropped with surprise, and as it did so a figure stole into the tent. Behind it, out of the fog, crept five other figures in Indian file, each shorter than the one before it. They were none of them big or terrible. The tallest was about Kenneth’s own height, and the smallest was hardly more than a baby. Three of them were boys and three were girls, and the little ones kept behind the others as if they were afraid.
“Ho!” said Kenneth. “I thought at first you were Indians!” and he began to laugh.