Cousin Jack presented the children with the clubs they used, and they promised to practise with them often.
"It'll be good for you growing young people," said Mr. Maynard, "and you can form a sort of a Pocahontas Club."
Then he had a gramophone brought out to the lawn, and they whisked their clubs about to inspiriting Indian music.
"Now, I dare say you're tired," said Cousin Jack, "for Indian club exercise is a strain on the muscles. So sit in a circle on the grass, and we'll all smoke pipes of peace and swap stories for a while."
The "pipes of peace" turned out to be pipes made of chocolate, so they were all willing to "smoke" them.
"Mine's a pipe of pieces!" said Midget, as she broke the stem in bits, and ate them one by one.
The others followed her example, and the pipes had disappeared before the story-telling fairly began.
But Cousin Jack told them some thrilling Indian tales, and so interested were his hearers that they gathered close about him, and listened in absorbed silence.
"Was that true, Cousin Jack?" asked King, after an exciting yarn.
"Well, it's in a story-book written by James Fenimore Cooper. You're old enough to read his books now, and if I were you children, I'd ask my parents to buy me some of Cooper's works."