So, the three boys left the table and placed three chairs—two side by side and one directly in front of the other two. Bill played the part of chauffeur and went through all of the motions of starting a jitney. No sooner was it running than a passenger (Paul) hailed him to stop. The chauffeur made the motions of applying brakes, getting out to open the door and assist the passenger inside, then tried to crank up again.
No sooner had he succeeded in starting the engine again, than a second passenger (Dudley) hailed the jitney to stop. Billy repeated the same actions as before but the first “fare” refused to move over in the seat and the second one tripped over his outstretched feet.
Again the chauffeur cranked and at last they were off! ’Twas the “rocky road to Dublin” all right, for the luckless passengers swayed and bumped in their seats, until suddenly the car stopped on a hill. Try as he would, the poor chauffeur could not start it again.
He came to the door and implored the two passengers to help him push the machine up the hill. They were indignant but finally consented. The brow of the hill reached they all jumped in again and down the jitney coasted. Just as the engine was nicely started again, the car struck a rut and overturned.
When Billy signalled the overturn, Paul, Dudley and he, tipped over the chairs and all lay sprawling on the floor.
A chorus of “Hows” greeted the performance and the juvenile contingent judged it worthy of the Council audience.
“Well, maybe we can improve on this, too, when we once feel the spirit of the Council move us,” ventured Billy.
“Oh sure thing!” bragged Paul, chestily.
And the others laughed heartily at his manner, but nothing daunted, Paul added, “Practice makes perfect, you know.”
A quiet half hour was spent in signing up coup claims and looking over the Tally of the last Council. Then, every one retired to the tents to dress in ceremonial Woodcraft costumes.