"There certainly must be a great deal of satisfaction in pinning one's foe to a tree," I nodded.
"Y-e-e-s, I suppose so," said Dorothy rather dubiously.
"And where is Spotted Snake—I mean, what is he doing?"
"Oh, he's down by the river with his bow and arrow, scouting for canoes. It was great fun! He shot at a man in a boat—and nearly hit him, and the man got very angry indeed, so we had to hide among the bushes, just like real Indians. Oh, it was fine!"
"But your Auntie Lisbeth said you weren't to play near the river, you know," I said.
"That's what I told him," returned Dorothy, "but he said that Indians didn't have any aunts, and then I didn't know what to say. What do you think about it, Uncle Dick?"
"Well," I answered, "now I come to consider, I can't remember ever having heard of an Indian's aunt."
"Poor things!" said Dorothy, giving the fluffy kitten a kiss between the ears.
"Yes, it's hard on them, perhaps, and yet," I added thoughtfully, "an aunt is sometimes rather a mixed blessing. Still, whether an Indian possesses an aunt or not, the fact remains that water has an unpleasant habit of wetting one, and on the whole, I think I'll go and see what Spotted Snake is up to."
"Then I think I'll come with you a little way," said Dorothy, as I rose. "You see, I have to get Louise her afternoon's milk."