The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit Part 15

Gladys rose shakily to a standing position, her hand on the shoulder of More Trees.

"Now beam over the trees, Moon."

Moon did her best to beam and grinned from ear to ear; Guns howled with laughter; the piano stool began to turn; Moon clutched wildly at More Trees and went down with a crash on the floor.

"Eclipse of the Moon," laughed Nyoda, rushing to the aid of the fallen one.

"Let somebody else be the Moon," declared Gladys, when she had been restored to the perpendicular, viewing the shaky stool with disfavor.

"Let Sahwah be it, she's more of an acrobat."

"You _have_ to be the Moon because you've got light hair," replied Nyoda in a tone of finality. "You'll just have to _manage_ so the stool doesn't turn, that's all. Try it again."

Moon rose over the trees and accomplished the difficult feat of holding the stool still and beaming at the same time with a fair degree of success, and the rehearsal began.

"Oh-Pshaw, you're forgetting to salute!" called Nyoda when Second Soldier had finished his speech. "There, that's all right, now don't forget to do it the next time. Now you get behind the Moon and hold her up through the next scene. She's wobbling again. What comes next? Oh, yes, here's where I come in."

Throwing down her prompting book and setting the partially c.o.c.ked hat upon her head, Nyoda made a flourishing entrance upon the stage as the Father of her Country, and the second touching scene of the drama was enacted, in which George is informed by the sentry that "we ain't got no flag to fight this here Revolution with," and soothingly promises to "see Betsy." Just as George was delivering his rea.s.suring promise Trees felt a fly walking across her nose and sneezed a tremendous sneeze, sending Guns sprawling upon the floor.

"Gracious, Hinpoha, can't you hold still a _minute_?" sighed Nyoda, pushing the hat up from her left eye where it had hung ever since she had knocked it crooked returning the sentry's salute. "And who's going to work our 'Quick Curtain' there?"

"Oh, either Slim or the Captain can draw the curtain for us," said Hinpoha.

"But we want it all to be a surprise for them," Sahwah reminded her.

"They're not supposed to know anything about it."

"Well, grandmother can draw the curtain, then," said Agony.

"But she's supposed to be in the audience, too," objected Oh-Pshaw.

"Why, _you_ can draw the curtain, you're not doing anything at the end of this scene!" exclaimed Nyoda triumphantly to Oh-Pshaw. "Second Soldier goes out after his one speech and doesn't come on again."

"I'm a rocking chair in the last scene, though," Oh-Pshaw reminded her.

Nyoda thought deeply for a moment. "We'll have to do without that one rocking chair in the last act. You'll have to draw the curtain. No show is complete without a quick curtain at the end. How can we have curtain calls without a curtain? Anyway, we don't need three rocking chairs, two are plenty."

So Oh-Pshaw good-naturedly shifted her role from rocking chair to curtain puller.

"Next scene, home of Betsy Ross," proclaimed Nyoda. "Trees, you'll have to turn into a chair in this scene, and More Trees, you turn into another chair. Guns, you will become a spinet and a spinning wheel respectively, and Moon, you'll turn into a table. First Soldier, you'll become Betsy Ross. Now then! All the stage settings get in place for the last scene!"

The two chairs solemnly began to rock back and forth on their heels, causing the Spinning Wheel to go off into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and Betsy Ross, hearing George's knock, rose to answer it, but, catching sight of the two rocking chairs, promptly doubled up on the floor instead of letting George in.

"I can't do anything if they're going to rock," gasped Betsy.

"You'll _have_ to get used to it," said Nyoda emphatically. "We want those rocking chairs, they're the funniest part of the show. Don't look at them if you can't keep a straight face. Now start again. Where's your baby? Here, take this towel for a baby until you can find a doll.

"Now, remember, when I come in you say 'h.e.l.lo, George,' in a very familiar tone, and when I say, 'Gee, ain't it fierce, we ain't go no flag to fight this here Revolution with,' you say, 'I know, ain't it fierce! Here, you hold the baby and I'll make one.' Then you give me the baby and I walk up and down while you sew, and the baby screams all the while--Oh-Pshaw, you'll have to make the noise for the baby behind the scenes. Now, all ready!"

George came in, with a yardstick tied around his waist for a sword, and made a deep bow which made the spinet giggle violently. "'Gee, ain't it fierce--' Stop laughing, Sahwah, remember you're the scenery!"

Sahwah lasted until the towel baby was laid in the arms of the Commander-in-Chief, and Oh-Pshaw, trying to imitate the noise of a crying baby behind the scenes, emitted a series of yelps which were harrowingly suggestive of a large yellow dog going through the meat chopper. It was too much for the rest of the scenery; the rocking chair howled, the spinning wheel choked, the table wept into her handkerchief, and even George's composure forsook him and he and Betsy fell up against each other and shouted.

"Good gracious, Oh-Pshaw, a baby doesn't cry like that! It makes a wailing noise in a high key. Try it again, now."

Oh-Pshaw amended her vocal efforts so that the results were not fatal, and the historical First Edition of the Stars and Stripes proceeded without further mishap.

"Where's the flag I'm to hold up when it's done?" demanded Betsy.

"Who brought the flag along?" asked Nyoda.

The spinet suddenly clapped a hand to her brow. "I left it on the porch at Carver House!" she exclaimed. "I was going to bring it along with the rest of the things, and then I forgot it. Shall I go and get it?"

"Never mind," said Nyoda, "we'll get along without it now and bring it along when we come over to-night. Come on, now, go through the whole thing once more, and then we're finished. Oh-Pshaw, while you're not on the stage, you make the signs for the scenery, TREES, MORE TREES, GUNS--make two signs for Guns--MOON, etc., and on the other side paint CHAIR, TABLE, SPINNING WHEEL, SPINET, etc., so all the scenery will have to do is turn the signs around on themselves when they change from the first to the second scenes."

All the above commotion was in preparation for the party which Agony and Oh-Pshaw were giving that night in honor of Slim's birthday. The birthday was already past, it is true, but it was still recent enough to make it a legitimate excuse for a party. The Winnebagos, as usual, could not have a party without some select private theatricals in honor of the occasion.

The rehearsal over, Nyoda and the Winnebagos wended their way back to Carver House to get ready for the evening.

"Kaiser Bill's out!" exclaimed Sahwah, as they approached the house. "I just saw him jump the hedge and run around the side of the house with something red in his mouth."

"The cover of the porch table!" exclaimed Nyoda. "Run, head him off, quick!"

They sped into the yard and round the side of the house as the sportive Kaiser doubled in his tracks and missed them by an inch.

"Oh, he's got the flag!" shrieked Sahwah. "I left it on the porch! Get it! Get it! He's got it half eaten!" They gave strenuous chase, but the wily Capricorn, mischief sparkling in his wicked eyes, eluded them again and again, and each time they pa.s.sed him there was less of the flag hanging out of his mouth. Not until the last shred was gulped down did he suffer himself to be cowed by the persistent umbrella in Nyoda's hand, and then he came to a stand in a triumphant att.i.tude, and on his face was the satisfied expression of an epicure who has just discovered a rare new dainty to tickle his palate.

The Winnebagos looked at each other and were speechless with horror.

Kaiser Bill had eaten up the American flag!

Nyoda recovered herself first, and the Winnebagos saw her in one of her rare moods of anger.

"This is the last straw!" she exclaimed indignantly. "He's chewed up two sofa pillows and a twelve-dollar hammock and no end of books; he destroyed Sahwah's kite last week; he's broken the windows in the greenhouse three or four times; he's ruined large numbers of valuable plants; and still I bore with him patiently for old Hercules' sake. But I won't stand it any longer. I'm tired of being kept in hot water by that fiendish old goat. He's the terror of the neighbors, and I live in hourly expectation of damage suits that will ruin me. Now I've reached the limit of endurance. Either that goat leaves Carver House or I do, and as Carver House belongs to me and Kaiser Bill doesn't, I reckon he'll be the one to go."

"What are you going to do with him?" asked Sahwah.

"Oh, give him away, or sell him--anything," replied Nyoda.

"Hercules, come here!" she called, as she spied a kinky white head bobbing around in the barnyard.

Hercules approached with a painfully stew, shuffling gait. "What is it, Mis' Elizabeth?" he inquired mildly, eyeing his mistress with affection in his look.

"Hercules," said Nyoda crisply, "we're going to get rid of that goat."

"What's 'at ol' goat bin a-doin', honey?" quavered Hercules anxiously.

"He's eaten up the American flag!" replied Nyoda in an outraged tone.

"This is positively the last straw. I put up with several hundred dollars' worth of damage about the place, but this is too much. Do you realize what he's done? _He's eaten up the American flag_!"

"Why-e-e-e-e-e!" exclaimed Hercules, and then, "Lord a-ma.s.sy! Kaiser Bill," he remarked reproachfully, "ain't I done fetched you up no better'n _'at?"_