“Yes, kiddie, it is too bad,” consoled Lillie, putting her arm around her friend, “but we have not had the feast yet, we’ve just been listening to little stories about the Pilgrims—you know you heard me read my story the other day—” she stopped abruptly, for a sudden rustling in a clump of trees back of the garden had caused every one to turn and peer apprehensively over their shoulders.
“Oh,” shivered the Sport nervously, “perhaps it is the crazy man!” She sprang to her feet and made as if to take to her heels again.
Every girl followed her example, and in another moment there would have been a wild stampede to the shelter of the hall, if a loud voice had not called out, “Welcome, Englishmen! Welcome!”
Simultaneously with these words a lithe form sprang into the midst of the terrified girls, who clung to one another with wildly beating hearts as with dilated eyes they glared at the intruder, a tall Indian youth, resplendent with a feathered head-gear. He was clad in deerskin trousers fringed at the seams, a string of hairy scalps hung at his belt, and he held a bow and arrow in his hands as he stood and looked down at this bevy of frightened colonial maids with a broad smile on his grease besmeared face.
There was just a second’s pause, and then Helen shouted merrily, “Oh, it’s Teddy Hart, and he’s Samoset! Oh, girls, don’t you remember? He was the Indian who came and welcomed the Pilgrims!”
Of course they all remembered, for had not Lillie dealt at length upon that very scene when telling her story? And Teddy Hart, why, he was a Boy Scout, one of Fred Tyson’s patrol, which was known as the Eagle patrol.
This was all that was needed to make the girls forget the crazy man and the Sport’s harrowing tale, and they crowded about Teddy crying, “Oh, Ted, where did you get the rig?” or, “What made you think of it?” and, “Isn’t it the best ever?” This last was from the Tike who was hopping about the new arrival examining the hairy scalps—which turned out to be a few wigs borrowed from the village barber—with keen curiosity.
“Great Cæsar! give a fellow a chance to breathe, won’t you?” fired the make-believe Samoset, as he mopped his face energetically. “Don’t riddle me with questions; I’m not a target!”
Yes, this was the second surprise, or the forerunner of it, for before Teddy was ready to surrender his place as the hero of the moment, the beat of a drum was heard, and from the little bit of woodland where Ted had been hiding issued a group of queer-looking individuals. They were all attired in somber-colored clothes with broad white collars, high conical-shaped hats, and all carried guns and had swords clanking at their sides in good impersonation of the Fathers of their country. The next moment they had formed in line and with well-simulated solemnity of countenance, “as if going to meeting-house,” tittered Grace, these sixteen men-at-arms, headed by Capt. Standish—who was no other than Fred Tyson—marched valiantly down the street towards the garden.
It was the Sport after all who saved the day for the Pioneers, for as they stood in dazed laughter wondering how to greet these unexpected guests, the Sport’s hand shot up, and two seconds later the girls had joined her in saluting their brother organization, as with one accord they gave the Pioneer cheer.