right!" said Terry. "You go first and then I will and then Alice.
Phew! It's slick. He'll never get up."

Billy wrestled manfully, and when he was exhausted he boosted Terry, and
then both of them helped Alice, to whom they awarded a prize of her own
doll. As they rested Billy remembered.

"Do your folks keep cows?" he asked.

"No, we buy milk," said Terry.

"Gee! Then what about the butter? Maybe your ma needs it for dinner!"

"No, she doesn't!" cried Alice. "There's stacks of it! I can have all
the butter I want."

"Well, I'm mighty glad of it!" said Billy. "I didn't just think. I'm
afraid we've greased our clothes, too."

"That's no difference," said Terry. "We can play what we please in these
things."

"Well, we ought to be all dirty, and bloody, and have feathers on us to
be real Indians," said Billy.

Alice tried a handful of dirt on her sleeve and it streaked beautifully.
Instantly all of them began smearing themselves.

"If we only had feathers," lamented Billy.

Terry disappeared and shortly returned from the garage with a feather
duster. Billy fell on it with a shriek. Around each one's head he
firmly tied a twisted handkerchief, and stuck inside it a row of stiffly
upstanding feathers.

"Now, if we just only had some pokeberries to paint us red, we'd be
real, for sure enough Indians, and we could go on the warpath and fight
all the other tribes and burn a lot of them at the stake."

Alice sidled up to him. "Would huckleberries do?" she asked softly.

"Yes!" shouted Terry, wild with excitement. "Anything that's a colour."

Alice made another trip to the refrigerator. Billy crushed the berries
in his hands and smeared and streaked all their faces liberally.

"Now are we ready?" asked Alice.

Billy collapsed. "I forgot the ponies! You got to ride ponies to go on
the warpath!"

"You ain't neither!" contradicted Terry. "It's the very latest style
to go on the warpath in a motor. Everybody does! They go everywhere in
them. They are much faster and better than any old ponies."

Billy gave one genuine whoop. "Can we take your motor?"

Terry hesitated.

"I suppose you are too little to run it?" said Billy.

"I am not!" flashed Terry. "I know how to start and stop it, and I drive
lots for Stephens. It is hard to turn over the engine when you start."

"I'll turn it," volunteered Billy. "I'm strong as anything."

"Maybe it will start without. If Stephens has just been running it,
sometimes