The north wind is no respecter of persons. He wasn't invited to Betty's lawn party, but he came at dawn and stayed until dark the day she chose to entertain her dearest friends. Billy was glad of it. He said that girls' parties were silly, anyway, and he hoped the whole flock would have to stay in the house. He declared that Betty needn't expect to see him at the party: he would rather hide in the cellar all day than be the only boy among so many girls. Aunt Florence smiled, and said she guessed they could get along without him if he felt that way.

"Sometime before I go home, though," she promised Billy, "we'll have a boys' party, and then we won't care how hard the wind blows. But the girls, dear me, Billy, they'll be so disappointed if they have to stay in the house."

"Who cares?" suggested Billy.

"Why, I care," suggested Aunt Florence. "Young man, I am helping Betty with this party, and the wind is more than I know what to do with."

"Oh, if it's your party, Aunt Florence, that's different, and I know what to do. Build a tramps' shelter and keep the wind out."

"What's a tramps' shelter, Billy?"

"Why, Aunt Florence, out in the woods the tramps make regular little rooms of trees and branches. We can coax papa and his man to get a wagon-load of Christmas-trees from the woods and make a room, not where we'd spoil the lawn, but the other side of the house, you know, down close to the lake."

"Who would report boats, Billy, if your father and the man both go to the woods?"

"Mamma would," was the reply; "she does lots of times. I'll get some boys to help make the room if you want to do it. I wish Gerald was here, but every time Mr. Robinson invites him to go on the fishing-tug, he goes. I wish I was him."

When Betty heard of Billy's plan, she said she didn't know he could think of anything so nice, and before noon the room was made.

"It's a fort!" declared Billy.

"Why, so it is," added Betty. "And to-morrow, Billy, let's play fort, and I'll ask Lucille and that little girl that plays with her, that little Marion Struble from Marquette, and Cora and Gay to come and bring their dolls and play ladies from the settlement seeking safety in the fort during an Indian war. You may be an Indian chief, you know, and I don't care how many boys you have for braves. Oh, it will be loads of fun."

"Let's do it to-day," suggested Jimmie Brown, the Detroit boy.

"And scare the girls to death," added one of the green cottage twins.

"Oh, mercy, boys, that wouldn't do at all! You see, this is to be a real stylish party to-day, and besides that, I don't s'pose half the girls that are coming ever played Indian. Why, one time, auntie, Gerald and Billy and I had an Indian show, and we hadn't any more than begun when the girls were scared and ran home crying.

"I wish you boys would please go now and pick about ten bushels of wild flowers, so we can make the inside of this evergreen fort perfectly beautiful. See, Aunt Florence, papa made the north wall extra thick and high, so the wind can't get in. Isn't this the sweetest place for a party you ever heard of? Of course, we'll be crowded, and of course we can't stay in it all the time, but that won't hurt anything. Mamma says we may bring out all the cushions and put them on the board seats. We'll have the music-box here in the corner."

Soon the boys returned with arms full of wild flowers. "Powder and shot for the fort," announced Billy, and the mischief shining in his eyes alarmed his sister.

"Now, Billy Grannis," she warned, "don't you dare try any tricks."

"Of course not," replied Billy, though Jimmie and the green cottage twins tossed their caps into the air and grinned.

"They're planning something, auntie," Betty declared, but when the guests began to arrive she forgot her suspicions.

Alice Swayze came first, dressed in her best white gown. She was from Kalamazoo. Betty seated her beside the music-box. Two little girls from Chicago came next, wearing wide blue sashes just alike. Little Belle Lamond from California straightened her pink sash, felt of the bow on her pretty dark curls, and acted so vain and silly, four small boys, who were watching from behind the north wall of the evergreen fort, almost laughed aloud.

"Won't she jump, though?" whispered Billy.

"You bet," replied Jimmie Brown, "and there comes Nellie Thomas. She's from Detroit, and is in my sister's room at school. She'll jump sky-high."

There was merriment within the evergreen fort, as little girls continued to enter and the tiny space became crowded. When Betty started the music-box, whispering behind the north wall was no longer necessary.

"It's getting so noisy in there, I'm 'fraid they won't even hear wild Indians," ventured Jimmie Brown at the top of his voice.

"Hush," cautioned Billy, "don't talk too loud. Music-boxes and wind and waves and talking girls sometimes keep still at the same time."

"Oh, look," exclaimed the twins, "what's coming?"

"Frenchy and Bud and Buzz and Tony and their little 'dopted sister Samone," Billy declared, as he began motioning for the new-comers to creep quietly to the fort.

'Phonse took the hint, and soon he and his wondering followers were peering through the evergreen walls.

"What's going to happen?" demanded 'Phonse, with a grin.

"Well," explained Billy, "it's a game, only the girls don't know they're in it. That's a fort, and we're Indians. I'm Minnavavana, the chief, and the rest of you are my braves. You want to play, of course. Samone don't count, though, she's only a papoose."

"But where are your tomahawks, and what's going to happen, I say?" persisted 'Phonse, as he and his brothers crowded around Billy.

"Look," said Jimmie Brown, showing the LeBrinn children a firecracker. "These Indians have guns. Can't you give him a gun, Billy? My pocket's full of matches."

"Sure," replied Billy; "you give out the matches. Now listen, you that don't know the game. We're all Indians, but I'm the chief. You're just braves. When I nod my head like this, every brave must give an awful war-whoop. Just screech, boys, yell for all you're worth, and I will, too, and that same minute fire off your firecrackers and run. You mustn't even stop to see what the girls do, because then we'll be caught."

"You all cut for the woods," 'Phonse warned his brood.

"Now get in a straight line," commanded Billy, "and look in. I guess they're all here now, and we mustn't wait long if we expect to have any fun, because soon's they're all here Betty's going to have them all go and have games on the porch, and they're coming back here for 'freshments. Watch out there, Bud, don't lean too hard. What if the stockade should tumble in?"

Unconscious of bright eyes watching, and of the row of grins behind the fort's north wall, the little girls laughed and gaily chatted.

Suddenly, without the least warning, blood-curdling sounds filled the air, accompanied by what seemed to be cannon shots. At the same instant, the evergreens forming the north wall trembled, shook, fell in; while screaming girls, frightened almost out of their senses, struggled to get away.

Billy tried to run but couldn't. "Wait, boys, wait for me!" he shouted, but the boys didn't wait, not even for the little Samone, who cried frantically for help. Billy never heard such an uproar, quickly followed by screams of terror unlike anything he ever dreamed of. Turning, he saw what Betty and her little friends that instant noticed; saw what made the grown folks, rushing across the lawn, white with fear. Little Samone, trying in vain to free herself from the evergreens, was on fire. Billy saw the flames reaching for the ragged sleeve of her calico slip, and knew that he must try to save her. Betty saw what he meant to do, and tried to stop him.

"Wait, Billy, wait!" she screamed. "You're too little! Papa is coming! Wait, oh, Billy, Billy!"

But the north wind wasn't waiting, and Samone was tiny. Quicker than a flash, Billy, usually so slow, leaped upon the evergreens, snatched Samone, and rolled her down the bank into the water.

When certain braves returned, seeking a lost papoose, they found her playing with Betty's guests; but the great chief, Minnavavana, whose hands were a trifle burned, was still sobbing in his mother's arms.