“We must have blankets, of course,” said Lina, with the air of one whose word is law; “mother has a genuine Navajo.”
“I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me,” put in Jimmy.
“We can use hatchets for tomahawks,” continued the little girl. “Come on, Frances; let us go home and get our things and come back here to dress up. Run, Jimmy, get your things! You, too, Billy!” she commanded.
The children ran breathlessly to their homes nearby and collected the different articles necessary to transform them into presentable Indians. They soon returned, Jimmy dumping his load over the fence and tumbling after; and the happy quartette sat down on the grass in Miss Minerva's yard. First the paint boxes were opened and generously shared with Billy, as with their handkerchiefs they spread thick layers of rouge over their charming, bright, mischievous little faces.
The feather decoration was next in order.
“How we goin' to make these feathers stick?” asked Billy.
They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the rescue.
“Wait a minute,” he cried, “I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Jack Robinson'.”
He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully holding up a bottle.
“This muc'lage'll make 'em stick,” he panted, almost out of breath.