“Nor me,” cried Dimples, hurrying to get out of the hut.
“We’ll lock the prisoners up with no food and have a council of war upon them in the morning,” said the Chief. “Perhaps we’ve done enough to-day.”
“I rather think you have,” said the Lady, as she soothed the poor little sobbing figures.
“That’s the worst of having kids to play,” said Dimples. “Fancy having a squaw in a war-party!”
“Never mind, we’ve had a jolly good Indian game,” said Laddie, as the sound of a distant bell called them all to the nursery tea.
Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury, England.
Footnotes:
[1] The reader is referred to the Preface in connection with this story.—A. C. D.