Is the operation to be repeated?"
The Mischief Maker said that it certainly would be, about the middle of
the morrow forenoon.
"Then I will start now," said the middle-aged man, "for I am lame, and
it will take me all night to get there."
So he hurried on, and at daylight entered the village. He found a
wigwam, by which several beautiful Indian girls were pounding corn in a
great wooden mortar. He sat down by them. He could hardly take his eyes
from them, they were so charming, and they wondered at his strange
behavior.
He talked with them, and said, "My eyelids quiver, and by that I know
that some great and strange news will soon be brought to this tribe.
Hark!"--here he moved up towards the one whom he most admired,--"did
you not hear a signal?"
"No," they replied.
The middle-aged man became very uneasy. Suddenly the girls gave a cry,
and dropped their corn pestles. A voice was heard afar; the runners
leaped and flew, the chiefs and people went forth. With them went the
girls and the middle-aged man, who took great pains to keep very near
his chosen one, so as to lose no time in applying the remedy for the
pestilence when the Mischief Maker should give the signal. He was
determined that a life should not be lost if he could prevent it.
The Stranger went through his story as at the other village. The people
became very much excited.
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