sprang to life. Carefully Danny shielded it with his hand and leaned over. The light grew as Danny lit two candles in pickle jars, placed one on a rock and held the other from a string handle attached to the jarâs rim. âWell, what do you think?â he asked, holding the light up.
Mike looked around in amazement. They were standing in a dried up river channel, that widened in the middle and was blocked at the other end by a fall of rocks. The ancient river had cut deep into the bank so there was a large overhang. It was almost a cave and would be impossible to see from the fields above.
âNeat-oh,â Mike breathed admiringly. âWhatâs that?â He pointed to a large conical pile of trimmed branches nestling into the base of the cliff.
âMy tipi,â replied Danny proudly and walked towards it. He carefully placed the homemade lantern on the ground, shifted some concealing brush, lifted aside an old towel hanging down as a door, dropped to his knees and crawled inside. His head reappeared, framed in the doorway. âCome inside,â he invited, and grabbing the lantern, disappeared from view.
Mike hesitated. âWhat about snakes or spiders?â he called.
âOh for heavens sake,â replied Danny crossly, âdonât be chicken.â
Mike pushed aside the towel and crawled through.
The tipi was just big enough for two. Rough barn planks were laid for a floor and the sloping piles of branches forming the walls were draped with old horse blankets. A cut log made a table and the pickle jar lantern swung gently from a protruding branch at the apex of the roof. The candle light made it warm and inviting.
Danny sat cross-legged and gazed anxiously at Mike. âWell, what do you think?â
Mike settled himself. âItâs great. This whole place is a great secret. No one would ever find it,â he enthused. âYou could hide out here for weeks if you had food, butâ¦â hehesitated and looked curiously across at Danny. âWhat do you do here?â
âOh, stuff,â replied Danny vaguely. âIndian stuff mostly.â
Mike teasingly punched Danny on the arm. âYeah, I forgot, you want to be Indian.â He started a Hollywood style chant. âPow pow wow wow. Pow wow wow wow,â he warbled, stamping his foot and waving an imaginary tomahawk. âCome on Danny. Letâs have a Sundance.â
Danny froze. âItâs not like that,â he muttered. âAnd you shouldnât joke about the Sundance. Itâs sacred. Itâs nothing to do with us.â
âSo what, weâre only having fun.â Puzzled, Mike looked at Danny. âCome on man, relax. Donât be so weird. What kind of stuff do you do?â
Danny reached behind him and brought out a small rag bundle. He untied the ends and spread it out on the log. Mike gazed with bemusement at a pile of rock chips.
âSee,â said Danny picking up a small rock flake and holding it out to Mike. âIâm trying to make a stone point, but I canât get the shape right.â He fiddled in his pocket, brought out the wad of tissues and carefully unwrapped his lance point. âIt should look something like this.â
âWow!â Mike eagerly grabbed the point.
âHey, careful,â Danny gasped. âDonât break it!â
âI wonât,â said Mike scornfully. âIâm not a klutz. Hey! How much?â
Danny sat back on his haunches in dismay. âHow much?â he faltered.
âYeah. Iâll buy this from you. How much?â
Danny shook his head, wishing heâd never shown the point to Mike. He held out his hand. âGive it back, Mike. Itâs mine. Iâm not selling.â
âAw come on Danny, everything has a price. Two bucks, Five bucks?â
Danny shook his head again. âCome on Mike. Give it back.â He leaned over the log and grabbed for it.
Mike swung his hand back
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