“What does that mean?” Ten voices rose together in asking this question.
“Royal-looking.”
“Oh! goody! he says we look royal; we’re princesses, Indian princesses, for this evening.” Morning-Glory strutted along the flushed sands in all her fringed and beaded bravery of ceremonial attire, beaming like the purple and white morning-glory in her head-band as if she had never known a lonely moment.
“But where are the bows an’ arrows, maidens? Why! you haven’t even got a harpoon among you, in case a school of blackfish should come in,” bantered Menokigábo, named for his stature “Standing Tall,” named by the maidens, in jest, as they told him, so that he might fit in with the general atmosphere of their camp.
“We’ll bring the bows and arrows next time we come,” answered Gheezies, the Guardian of the Camp Fire tribe, with the yellow sun embroidered on her bosom, this being the meaning of her name and her own particular symbol as it was the general emblem of all Camp Fire tribes.
She was standing by a budding camp fire which had just begun to blossom in a nest of rocks upon the beach, eclipsed by the sun’s fading splendors.
Scattered around her were her maidens, all in ceremonial dress, with their long braids hanging, head-bands gleaming, moccasined feet spurning the sands in an evening ecstasy of dressing up. Daughters of the Sun! Children of Camp Morning-Glory! What wonder that the old sea-dog said they made the world look “royal.”
“Hullo! see, I’ve got the Kullibígan all ready.” He pointed to a foot-long top of spinning dimensions and silvery lustre in his hand. “’Tain’t painted yet, but I guess that won’t lessen the magic—’twill answer all your questions by an’ by just as well.”
“I’m going to paint it all over with symbols to-morrow,” burst forth Jessica, touching the carefully polished wood. “I’m going to paint the emblem of our Morning-Glory Camp Fire which is an ocean sunrise—the dawn coming up like a foam-chicken, as Captain Andy—I mean Menokigábo—says, and my own symbol, a morning-glory flower and all the symbols of my Camp Fire Sisters that I can crowd on to it.”
“Great guns! ’twill surely be ‘some top’ then,” ejaculated old “Standing Tall,” looming massive against the waning sunlight. “Why! Kitty.”