The short afternoon waned fast, and the
shadows were growing deep when they reached the last part of the game.
Ginger had been taken prisoner, and they were tying her to a tree, with
her hands bound securely behind her back. She rather enjoyed this part
of it, for she intended to show them how brave she could be.
"Now we'll sit around the council fire and decide how to torture her,"
said Malcolm, when the captive was securely tied. But the fire was out
and they had no matches. The lot fell on Malcolm to run up to the house
and get some.
"A fire would feel good," said Keith, looking around with a shiver as he
seated himself on a log near Ginger. The sun was low in the west, and
very little of its light and warmth found its way into the woods where
the children were playing.
"It makes me think of Hiawatha," said Ginger, looking down at several
long streaks of golden light which lay across the ground at her feet.
"Don't you remember how it goes? 'And the long and level sunbeams shot
their spears into the forest, breaking through its shield of shadow,'
Isn't that pretty? I love Hiawatha. I am going to learn pages and pages
of it some day. I know all that part about Minnehaha now,"
"Say it while we are waiting," said Keith, pulling his short trousers
down as far as possible, and wishing that he had sleeves, or else that
the paint were thicker on his chilly arms.
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