Peggy needed no second bidding. She mounted a grassy mound beneath a spreading tree and sang her best and sweetest song. It did seem strange, this crowd of listening, spear-armed savages, around the one little mite of a white child who had the power to enthral them with the music of her voice!
But when, with Willie as a partner, she danced a fandango, the natives grew wildly excited, and they too must dance. Before Peggy knew exactly what was the matter, behold, a triple ring of them were whirling madly round the tree, shouting, screaming, and yelling, while they brandished their spears aloft!
“Give them a solo,” shouted Stransom to Gourmand; “it will help to quicken the beggars.”
And at the very first blast from that marvellous instrument, a scene of panic ensued, such as is seldom witnessed. The savages darted back in all directions, knocking each other down, falling on each other, with legs, arms, heads and spears, in such a mad comminglement, the wonder is that many were not killed; and before Gourmand had finished his gigantic solo, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.
“‘Music hath charms,’” cried Gourmand, doing an attitude, “‘to soothe the savage breast.’”
The king almost went into a fit with laughing, while Peggy and Willie joined in the general merriment, and the giant added his bass “Ho! ho! ho!” and his deep “Ha! ha! ha!” till the very welkin rang.
But the natives soon returned, and “Little Gourmie,” as Willie called him, gave an exhibition of his strength and skill that astounded his audience.
The giant was then requested by the king to shoot his fat old wife.
“No,” said Gourmie; “I’ve never been used to shooting fat old wives, and I’m too old to learn. Thank you, all the same.”
* * * * *