Fred had signalled Elizabeth while the Jitney act was being done, and she slipped away from the circle unseen by the others. At the beating of the tom-toms she now appeared from behind a group of trees, holding a long white veil behind her head. The veil was of chiffon and the light breeze wafted it gracefully about as the dancer entered the Council Ring.
The Storm Cloud dance is one of the most graceful of the Indian Dances and Elizabeth was well-trained so a genuine treat was given the visitors that day.
Then to the surprise of every one present, Uncle Tom stood and said, “I challenge Uncle Bill to a tub-tilting match.”
This also proved a great success, for Uncle Bill, always ready to provoke fun and laughter, did his part with great gusto. The result was that the exact rules were not followed but far greater sport was furnished by the two heavy performers in unexpected actions and twists and ferocious grimaces.
After a Folk Song contest and Character Dances were given, every one walked down to the Cove to watch the canoe tilting between the two boys with Captain Ed and Benton as seconds. This was interesting as the boys were well matched, but Billy came off victorious at last, having upset his opponent by thrusting the soft-padded pole suddenly in the pit of his stomach.
Billy and Dudley dressed and then a Talk Fest was started by the Chief against Dudley; as they finished the victory was accorded Dudley with the remark, “He’s the fastest talker on the hemisphere!”
The appearance of Mose, carrying a huge tray of refreshments, now put to flight any other ideas of sport, and when the ever-hungry Woodcrafters were satisfied, the obliging waiter flopped down in a kitchen chair and looked wearily up at Bridget for consolation.
“Ah d’clare t’ goodness, d’ way dem fo’kses ack in dat Woodcraf’ bisnis, an’ den go an’ git such empty stomacks, is amusin’ t’ me! Jus’ look at dem vacant plates—would yo’ b’lieve dey had ben piled up high wid san’witches an’ fixin’s t’ say nuffin of th’ cake an’ lemyonade!”
Bridget had been taxed to the limit by the great demand for lemonade, and she sniffed disdainfully: “’Twar mesilf ez beat twelve aigs in th’ layer cake! No wonder it melted away like snow in July! Not a crumb fer the cook, ayther!”
Mose looked compassionately at the defrauded cook and remarked: “Ah’ve hearn say dat a good chef neveh gits lef’ fo’ a bite! Now Ah’m a fust-class cook so Ah had a good big snack o’ dat twelve aig cake befoh it passed outen my control!”