He is swung into the center of the room, and his playmates make surreptitious dives at the whistle and raise it to their lips, taking care not to stretch the ribbon so that he will feel the tug.
Perfect silence should be maintained by those eddying round him; they move on tip-toe, with bated breath, but now and then sounds of stifled laughter are heard.
The “blind” man seeks high and low for the possessor of the whistle, his ears strained to catch the direction of the sound. He may succeed in embracing a youth or damsel, but his search round her neck, waist, or in her fingers for the missing whistle is futile.
It will be long ere he guesses the secret, if he ever does, and the delight of young and old at his expense is hilarious.
The Blind Brothers
All who are unfamiliar with this mysterious game are banished from the room and brought in separately.
The master of ceremonies blandly invites each to be seated on one of two chairs placed back to back and touching each other; the other chair is occupied by one of the initiated in the performance. A sheet is thrown over the couple, and round them circle those of the guests who are aware of what is to happen.
One of the two blind men, the confederate, is secretly armed with a light roll of paper.
To the strains of the pianoforte, the other players march round. Suddenly the individual who has been brought in feels a light tap on his head; he should at once cry out to his companion—
“Brother, I’m balked.”