"Oh! he just gives your hair a pull and makes believe."

"I see."

"Then we play it five times, and each scalp counts one. Now, isn't that
real jolly?"

John had his doubts as to this, but he took his place and made some
snowballs clumsily.

"Make ready! Fire!" cried Leila. The snowballs flew. At last, the girl
seeing how wildly he threw exposed herself. A better shot took her full
in the face. Laughing gaily, she dropped, "I'm dead."

The game pleased him with its unlooked-for good luck. "Now don't stand
there like a ninny--scalp me," she cried.

He ran to her side and knelt down. The widespread hair affected him
curiously. He touched it daintily, let it fall, and rose. "To pull at a
girl's hair! I couldn't do it."

Leila laughed. "A good pull, that's how to scalp."

"I couldn't," said John.

"Well, you are a queer sort of Indian!" She was less merciful, but in the
end, to her surprise, he had three scalps. "Uncle Jim will laugh when I
tell him," she said. "Shall we go home?"