"Yes, it is a garden of wild flowers that seems as wide as the sky. It can all be turned into green, and it will be some day."
Aunt Indiana greeted the Indian civilly, and the Tunker held out his hand to him.
"Elder," said Aunt Indiana, "I must tell you one of my own experiences, now that Johnnie Kongapod has come—the one that they bantered me about over to the smithy. Johnnie and I are old friends. I used to be a kind of travelin' preacher myself; I am now—I go to camp-meetin's, and I always do my duty.
"Well, a few years ago, durin' the Injun troubles, there was goin' to be a camp-meetin' on the Illinois side, and I wanted to go. Now, Johnnie Kongapod is a good Injun, and I arranged with him that he should go with me.
"You didn't know that I wore a wig, did ye, elder? No? Well, most people don't. I have had to wear a wig ever since I had the scarlet fever, when I was a girl. I'm kind o' ashamed to tell of it, I've so much nateral pride, but have to speak of it when I tell this story.
"Johnnie Kongapod never saw a wig before I showed him mine, and I never showed it to him until I had to.
"Well, he came over from Illinois, and we started off together to the camp-meetin'. It was a lovely time on the prairies. The grass was all ripe and wavin', and the creeks were all alive with ducks, and there were prairie chickens everywhere. I felt very brisk and chipper.
"We had two smart horses, and we cantered along. I sang hymns, and sort o' preached to Johnnie, when all at once we saw a shadow on the prairie like a cloud, and who should come ridin' up but three Injuns! I was terribly frightened. I could see that they were hostile Injuns—Sacs, from Black Hawk. One of them swung his tommyhawk in the air, and made signs that he was goin' to scalp me. Johnnie began to beg for me, and I thought that my last hour had come.
"The Injun wheeled his pony, rode away, then turned and came dashin' towards me, with tommyhawk lifted.
"'Me scalp!' said he, as he dashed by me. Then he turned his horse and came plungin' towards me again.