There were twoscore of the braves, and a part of the services consisted of prancing in file around a pot of water which was sending up a great volume of steam from where it hung over a bright fire.
Occasionally a rock was pulled from the fire with sticks and dropped into the pot to increase the volume of steam; then the Indians would caper around the pot, chanting loudly, waving their arms, and now and then darting up to brush hands and arms through the ascending steam.
“I’d like to see what they would do, if I blowed a good blast on my bugle,” said Tootsie.
“You might wish you hadn’t tried it, before it was over,” said the scout.
“Couldn’t we keep out of sight and mystify them?”
“They would probably go back up the gully where they could climb the cliff and come up to investigate.”
“What do you suppose they would do if a tall white figure stood out here in the moonlight and waved its arms and I blowed the bugle at the same time?”
“They would shoot at the tall white figure,” laughed the scout.
“Suppose the ghost kept right on waving its arms and blowing the bugle?”
“Then I think you’d have them stampeded.”