“That must be the reason why I had such a fearful headache the other day,” she said, as she took her place with the other sick one, half amused and wholly disgusted at herself for having fallen a victim.
“I had a headache too,” said Hinpoha, in alarm, “I hope I’m not coming down with them. I’ve had them once.”
“That doesn’t help much,” said Nyoda, “for I had them three times.” Hinpoha’s fears were realized, and by night there was a third case developed. And so, instead of a grand council on the Fourth of July there was real medicine making at Onoway House. None of the sufferers were very ill, although they must remain prisoners, and they had such a jolly time in the “contagious disease ward” that Migwan and Sahwah, who were finding things rather dull on the outside, wished fervently that they had taken the measles too.
As soon as the three invalids were pronounced entirely well there was a celebration held in honor of the occasion in the tepee. At sundown Nyoda went around beating on a tin pan covered with a cloth in lieu of a tom-tom, which was always the signal for the tribe to come together. Tom, as runner, was dispatched to fetch the Landsdownes and Calvin Smalley. When the tribe came trooping in answer to the call, followed by the guests, they were marched in solemn file around the lawn and into the tepee. Inside there was a fire kindled in the center, with a circle of ponchos and blankets spread around it on the ground. “Bless my soul, but this is cozy,” said Farmer Landsdowne, dropping down on a poncho and stretching himself comfortably.
“Now, what shall we do?” asked Nyoda, who was mistress of ceremonies, “play games or tell stories?”
“Tell stories,” begged Migwan, “we haven’t ‘wound the yarn’ for an age.”
“All right,” agreed Nyoda, “shall we do it the way several of the Indian tribes do?”
“How do they do it?” asked Migwan.
“Well,” said Nyoda, “there is a tradition among certain tribes that if anyone refuses to tell a story when he is asked he will grow a tail like a donkey. Sometimes, however, they do not wait for Nature to perform this miracle, but fasten a tail themselves onto the one who will not entertain the crowd when he is bidden, and he must wear it until he tells a story. Their way of asking one of their number to tell one is to remark ‘There is a tail to you,’ as a delicate way of expressing the fate that will be his if he refuses.”
“Oh, what fun!” cried Sahwah.