Brady's house,
to enjoy themselves by annoying Mr. Brady's family and others as much as
possible. During the Indian occupation of Cahokia this band had gained a
well-deserved reputation for mischief; and chief among them was the North
Wind himself, whom I had done the honor to kick in the stomach. To-night
they had made a fire in this Mr. Brady's flower-garden, over which they
were cooking venison steaks. And, as I reached the door, the North Wind
spied me, grinned, rubbed his stomach, made a false dash at me that
frightened me out of my wits, and finally went through the pantomime of
scalping me. I stood looking at him with my legs apart, for the son of
the Great Chief must not run away. And I marked that the North Wind had
two great ornamental daubs like shutter-fastenings painted on his cheeks.
I sniffed preparation, too, on his followers, and I was sure they were
getting ready for some new deviltry. I handed the note to Mr. Brady
through the crack of the door that he vouchsafed to me, and when he had
slammed and bolted me out, I ran into the street and stood for some time
behind the trunk of a big hickory, watching the followers of the North
Wind. Some were painting themselves, others cleaning their rifles and
sharpening their scalping knives. All jabbered unceasingly. Now and
again a silent brave passed, paused a moment to survey them gravely,
grunted an answer to something they would fling at him, and went on.
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