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"Come in come in, Caleb, an' set down. An' how is Saryann an' Dick?" "They seem happy an' prosperin'," said the old man with bitterness. "Say, Granny, did you ever hear the story about Garney's grave out there on the road?" "For the love av goodness, an' how is it yer after askin' me that now?
They were quickly put on the new Chief; his war bonnet, splendid with the plumes of his recent exploits, was all ready; and proud and happy in his new-found honours, not least of which were his wounds, he stepped forward. Caleb viewed him with paternal pride and said: "I knowed ye was the stuff the night ye went to Garney's grave, an' I knowed it again when ye crossed the Big Swamp.
The feeling increased as he climbed from the leaning tree to the great trunk of the Basswood, to lose sight of his comrades in the wilderness of broad leaves and twisted tree-arms. The dancing firelight sent shadow-blots and light-spots in a dozen directions with fantastic effect. Some of the feelings of the night at Garney's grave came back to him, but this time with the knowledge of real danger.
There won't be after this. We come too early, and it's too hot for the Dog, anyway." "We could cross the creek and go into Boyle's bush," suggested the Woodpecker. "We're like to strike anything there. Larry de Neuville swears he saw a Unicorn there the night he came back from Garney's wake." "How can you tell the kind of game by the Dog's barking?" asked Yan.
You have just about time to go to Garney's grave by midnight an' get that stone, and if you can't find the exact spot you listen for the groaning that'll guide you." This cheerful information was given in a hoarse whisper that somehow conveyed the idea that the old man was as scared as he could be. "I I I " stammered Guy, "I can't see the way." "This is the chance of your life, boy.
This was the legend that Caleb called up to memory and made very impressive by being properly impressed himself. "Now," said he, "I am going to hide this stone just behind the rock that marks the head of Garney's grave, an' I'll send you to git it some night. Air ye game?" "Y-e-s, I'll go," said the Third War Chief without visible enthusiasm.
Now who in all this Tribe is the best runner? That's Little Beaver." "That's my drum, Ma!" said Guy aside, forgetting to applaud. "Who is the best trailer and climber? Little Beaver, again, I reckon." "Who was it won the trial of grit at Garney's grave? Why, it was Little Beaver." "But who was it shot the Cat-Owl plumb in the heart, an' fit the Lynx hand to hand, not to speak of the Coon?
Guy didn't see anything to make so much fuss about, but Caleb said, "I knowed it; I always knowed you was the stuff, after the night you went to Garney's grave." On the Old Camp Ground It was threatening to rain again in the morning and the Indians expected to tramp home heavy laden in the wet. But their Medicine Man had a surprise in store.
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