“Some hike,” he said, ignoring the question. “Going to the Peace Celebration, I suppose?”
“Yes, we just want to see the doings. How near did you say the train would take us?”
He seemed loath to answer them. “’Bout eight miles,” he finally answered. “Reckon you fellows must be tired if you have hiked from Itasca. You can sleep there in that shack if you want to. I’ll call you in the morning.”
It seemed to the boys that they had hardly closed their eyes when they were awakened by the engine and found it broad daylight. The man had forgotten to call them, and they had just time to crawl onto the caboose when the train pulled out, lurching along over the uneven track. The little Shaw engine with its upright cylinders and geared connections made a noise which would indicate a tremendous speed, but the train barely crept along and they were an hour and a half going the fifteen miles to the junction where they had to walk once more. As they had eaten their breakfast in the caboose they started out at once on the road the brakeman showed them, and by nine o’clock they came within sight of the Peace Celebration.
A small rolling prairie lay before them, completely surrounded by forest and surrounding a very pretty little lake. The festivities had not yet started, but it was a lively scene, nevertheless. The tepees and wigwams of the Indians were scattered over the whole plain in most picturesque fashion. Indian braves in full regalia strolled leisurely about or sat smoking contentedly in front of their tepees, while here and there the booths of the squaws displaying all manner of Indian baskets, beaded belts and moccasins presented bold patches of color. Many visitors thronged the camps, bargaining for souvenirs and asking foolish questions of the Indian chiefs who never answered them. It was a peaceful scene, and would have served as a model in point of order for many a white man’s fair. The Indian policemen did their work well, patrolling the camp continuously on their moth-eaten little ponies.
“Well, Scotty,” Merton cried. “Here we are, at nine o’clock in the morning. We sure were lucky. Those other fellows can’t get here before noon, anyway, and they’ll be all in. That train was the clear stuff.”
“Yes,” Scott said, “fifteen miles is a pretty good lift, even on a train like that. Let’s pick out a place for a camp and fix things up.”
They selected a site on a little knoll on the shore of the lake, where they soon had their dog-tent up and were sitting as comfortably in front of it as any chief in the tribes. They commanded a pretty good view of the whole field and could tell from the movement of the crowd what was going on.
As they learned from one of the policemen that the program would not open till the afternoon with pony races, foot races, canoe races and a big parade, they decided to content themselves with a general view that morning and wait for the other fellows.
At eleven-thirty they saw them coming straggling in along a road from the north and hurried to meet them.