"Billy Grannis," called Aunt Florence, "what's the matter?"
"Why, that was just an Indian war-whoop, auntie. Frenchy and I have been practising whoops lately."
"Well, please don't practise any more now; you made me jump so I lost three beads. I don't believe an Indian could give a worse yell."
"Oh, yes, he could," exclaimed Betty, "my, that's nothing!" and, seeing her opportunity, she began telling stories. Even Billy grew solemn in his very mind as he listened, and it wasn't long before Betty succeeded in scaring herself, however Aunt Florence may have felt.
Suddenly the air was filled with shrieks. Aunt Florence became white as the daisies, as she stared at Betty, while terror seized Billy.
"It's the sunbonnet girls," gasped Betty; "what do you s'pose is the matter? What is the matter?" she demanded of the flying maidens.
"Indians, Indians, run quick, run, run! I tell you they're after us!"
One glance toward the lake was enough for Betty. She saw canoes being drawn up on the beach, and Indians coming straight toward them. The child was never more frightened in her life. Forgetting Billy, she and Aunt Florence fairly flew over the rough ground. Billy, poor fellow! never could run because he was too plump. He hadn't gone ten breathless steps before he fell into a cellar-hole, and, before he could scramble out, a big Indian overtook him.
"Match," grunted the Indian, "want match."
"N-n-no, I don't want any matches," answered Billy, trying to steady his trembling knees.