“Owe,” said Chapa, which was pronounced right. “O heal woe, what’s that?” she asked.
“You’re twisted,” said Nyoda, “it’s ‘Wohelo.’ That really was too easy. Let’s not divide them into syllables after this,” she suggested, “it’s no contest of wits that way. Let’s act out the word all at once.” The alteration was accepted with enthusiasm.
Hinpoha came out alone for her side. “Word of two syllables,” she said. Taking a blanket she spread it over a bushy weed and tucked the corners under until it looked not unlike a large stone. Then she retired from the scene. Soon Nyoda came along and paused in front of the blanket, which looked like an inviting seat.
“What a lovely rock to rest on!” she exclaimed, and seated herself upon it. Of course, it flattened down under her weight and she was borne down to the ground.
A moment of silence followed this performance as the guessers racked their brains for the meaning. “Is it ‘Landsdowne?’” asked Gladys.
“It might be, but it isn’t,” said Nyoda, laughing.
“I know,” said Sahwah, starting up, “it’s ‘shamrock.’”
“You are sharper than I thought,” said Nyoda, rising from her seat. “Nobody down yet. Now, fire your broadside at us. No word under three syllables. Anything less would be unworthy of our giant intellects.”
“Third round!” cried Calvin.
Sahwah walked down to the water’s edge, holding in her hand a large key. Leaning over, she moved the key as if it were walking in the water. This proved a puzzler, and cries of ‘Milwaukee,’ ‘Nebrasky,’ and ‘turnkey’ were all met with a triumphant shake of the head.