The day had been pretty strenuous for most of the girls and it was not long before Nepahwin, the Spirit of Sleep, claimed them for his own. Then it was that the Dream Manitou, hovering over the Omega tent, fluttered down on Sahwah's pillow. In fancy she roamed through the virgin forest, before the white man had come to destroy the Indian lodges. She was the daughter of a Chieftain, the acknowledged leader of the other maidens. Now there was a young brave belonging to a neighboring tribe with whom she was in love, but there was enmity between her tribe and his, and he dared not ask for her hand. So they were in the habit of meeting secretly in the forest. One day when they were together they became aware of footsteps approaching, and peering through the bushes saw a number of braves belonging to the young man's tribe close upon them. So great was their hatred of her father that for them to find her would mean instant death.
"Fly! fly!" whispered her lover, "fly to the edge of the cliff and jump for your life. My canoe is at the foot of the cliff—take it and escape while I divert the attention of these braves!"
Like an arrow from the bow she set out. Reaching the edge of the cliff, she poised for an instant, then leaped into the lake twenty feet below. As she struck the water Sahwah woke up. All about her was darkness and seeming chaos. There was a swirling about her ears and her limbs seemed detached from her body. She seemed to be rising rapidly. Suddenly her head shot clear of the enveloping gloom and she saw the moon and stars overhead. Just above her reared a black framework. Mechanically she flung out her hand and grasped solid wood. The next moment a voice rang out above her head. "Sahwah! What are you doing?" Then a hand came over the edge of the dock and pulled her up. It was Nyoda. Sahwah blinked at her stupidly.
"Whatever possessed you to jump off the tower?" persisted Nyoda.
"He told me to jump and I did," said Sahwah, still in a daze. Then suddenly her eyes fell on her nightdress, dripping at every fold. "Where am I?" she said sharply, her teeth beginning to chatter. "Why,Nyoda!"
Nyoda laughed. "You dreamed it, dear," she said. "You jumped off the tower in your sleep. Come up to bed now before you take cold." Putting her arm around the shivering girl, she led her up the path to the tent and tucked her in between dry blankets. "Too much celebration," she reflected, and then added to herself, "It's a good thing I happened to see her."
Nyoda had wakened in the night and lay looking out through the tent door at the lake bathed in moonlight. The diving tower was right in her line of vision, solitary and black against the moonlight. Suddenly she became aware of a figure climbing up the ladder to the top. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes and recognized Sahwah. The girl poised for an instant on the edge and then jumped into the water. Nyoda sped down the path and reached the dock just as Sahwah came up.
"And up until now," thought Nyoda, as she dropped off to sleep again, "I did think they were safe in their beds!"
At the close of singing hour one morning the week following the Fourth-of-July celebration Nyoda rose with an air of mystery and requested the girls not to make up their beds as usual, but instead to roll their blankets in their ponchos and pile them up together. A shriek of joy went up from the girls. "What is it, Nyoda, a canoe trip?"
Nyoda shook her head. "You'll see," was all she would say. Immediately she was surrounded by the girls clamoring to be told where they were going. "I surrender," she said, laughing at Migwan, who was embracing her feet in supplication, "we're going hunting."
"Hunting what?" clamored the chorus.
"Oh, adventures and such things," said Nyoda in an off-hand manner.
"Where are we going?" "How are we going?" "When are we going to start?" shouted the girls from all sides.
Nyoda put her hands over her ears and tapped for silence with her foot. "One at a time, please, ladies, and I will endeavor to answer any questions that may come into your minds," she said in her best lecture-room manner.
"Oh, Nyoda, tell us," begged the girls.
"Having your kind permission to speak," resumed Nyoda, "I will try to state the case briefly. Now then, one, two, three! We're going to Balsam Lake!"
"It's a hike!" shouted Sahwah, turning a handspring.
"Is it, Nyoda?" asked Migwan.
Nyoda nodded. "That's it. We're going to hike through the woods to Balsam Lake, which is a distance of about twelve miles, camp there for the night, and return to-morrow by another route."
"O Goody!" cried Sahwah, hopping up and down on one foot, "when are we going to start?"
"The first two will start at ten o'clock," said Nyoda.
"The first two!" echoed the girls. "Aren't we all going together?"
Then Nyoda outlined her plan. Believing that the girls would collect more adventures by going in pairs instead of all together, besides the fun of following a trail marked out by leaders, she had arranged the girls two by two. The first pair, who would be the pathfinders and blaze the trail for those coming after, would leave at ten o'clock, the next pair twenty minutes later, then the next, and so on. Their ponchos would be brought in a wagon over the main road and left for them; they would buy their supplies for supper and breakfast at the last village they passed through. Their lunches, they would carry with them. The first two were to buy potatoes and start the fire and put them in, while the rest would bring the other supplies.
"Who and who are going to be partners?" demanded Sahwah.
"Listen, while I read the list," answered Nyoda. "Sahwah andNakwisi, Hinpoha and Migwan, Gladys and Chapa, Medmangi andmyself. You will leave camp in the order I have named you.Sahwah and Nakwisi will be the pathfinders." Sahwah seizedNakwisi around the waist and the two danced for joy.
"Who'll take care of the camp while we're away?" asked Chapa.
"I have arranged with a man from the village to look after things until we get back," answered Nyoda.
"What are we to carry with us?" asked Migwan.
"You will each carry a hatchet, flashlight, notebook and pencil, a camera, a roll of antiseptic gauze and a roll of surgeon's plaster. Sahwah and Nakwisi, here is a chart of the road you are to take and a can of vermilion paint with which to mark the trail. Take all the pictures you can along the road, girls, and keep a list of the birds, animals, trees and flowers that you recognize. We will compare them afterward and the pair who has observed the most will receive a local honor. Hurry up, you pathfinders, you have only an hour to get ready!"
With a wild scramble the girls made for their tents to get their ponchos rolled and things collected. Nyoda had given them a demonstration of poncho rolling the week before so they all knew how. Gladys, however, had to have a good deal of help from Chapa before she was ready to start. Good-natured Chapa folded her blankets so the poncho extended on all sides and spread her nightgown, towel, brush and comb and toothbrush crosswise so they would roll. Now Gladys understood why Nyoda had told her especially to bring a small, loosely-stuffed pillow. It was to roll in the poncho. When it came to the actual rolling Gladys had to take a hand herself, for it takes two to roll a poncho successfully.
"Now you tie it up with a square knot," directed Chapa, when the stovepipe-like roll had been bent into a horseshoe.
"What's a square knot?" asked Gladys.
"Why, this kind," said Chapa, dexterously tying one. Gladys tried several times, but failed to produce a square knot. "O dear," she exclaimed impatiently, "I can't tie the crazy thing. Why won't the other kind do?"
"A granny knot always comes untied," explained Chapa. "Here, I'll tie your poncho up. It's getting late, and I want to help make the sandwiches for the girls who are starting first."
"Close your tents before you leave, girls," said Nyoda, appearing in the doorway, "it may rain while we are away. Very neatly done," she said, indicating Gladys's poncho with its smooth ties, "you are fast learning to be a camper." Gladys said nothing about Chapa's having done it up for her, and of course Chapa would not say so.
Promptly at ten o'clock the pathfinders marched away, looking quite explorerfied with their hatchets hanging from their belts and their Wohelo knives chained to their bloomer pockets. At twenty-minute intervals the other pairs started, Nyoda going the rounds before she left to see who had left her things in the neatest order, and whose poncho looked the best. A banner would go to the pair who kept up the best style throughout the hike. She and Medmangi ate their lunch before starting, as they left so near noon.
Leaving camp in the care of the man from the village, they struck into the path through the woods. The whole earth seemed filled with the scent of flowers and the invigorating odor of the pines. Here in Maine the wild strawberries were in full prime early in July, and the path was bordered with daisies and other bright flowers. The two swung along in silence with an enjoyment too deep for words, for they appreciated as only Camp Fire Girls can the beauties and, wonders of nature. Back somewhere in the world they had left behind dull care might be beating its incessant tom-tom, and the air was full of wars and rumors of wars, but here every harsh note was drowned in the singing of birds. "Isn't it glorious?" said Nyoda fervently, drinking in a long breath of the pine-scented air, and swelling out her already well-developed chest.
Presently the path they were on was crossed by another and at the intersection there was a splash of bright red paint on a tree. "A blaze!" cried Nyoda, stopping short. "Which path did they take, I wonder?" In the road at the foot of the blazed tree lay a small heap of stones pointing in the direction taken by the leaders. "What's this?" asked Nyoda, picking up a small box from beside the stones. It was marked "For Nyoda." She lifted the lid and out hopped a tiny live frog. In the bottom of the box was a piece of paper on which was drawn a sunfish.
So they went on for nearly half an hour, following the red blazes, when suddenly they came upon Chapa and Gladys sitting in the road. Gladys had a blister on her heel. Nyoda bandaged it for her and showed her how to put a piece of adhesive on the other heel to keep it from blistering. The rule of the road was that if one pair caught up with another they were to sit down and give them a ten minutes' start. So Nyoda and Medmangi sat down and waited until Gladys and Chapa were well under way.
The next blaze they struck was truly startling. It was a little silver birch tree with the stem painted entirely red. Nailed to it with a big rusty nail was a piece of cardboard. At the top was written:
"Sahwah and the Starlore MaidenKeep ahead though heavy laden."
Then followed a many-pointed symbol and the words, "See our combination symbol? It's a starfish!" Underneath was a couplet in a different writing.
"Here come Migwan and HinpohaTwo and two like the beasts of Noah."
Underneath that was a verse signed by "The Chipmunk."
"Gladys's heel is full of plaster,Or else we would travel faster."
Nyoda and Medmangi shouted and took the card along for a souvenir, adding the lines,
"Here Nyoda and MedmangiRead the blaze and held a tangi."
A little farther on they discovered the legend:
"Here we sit down in the road,For Sahwah's stocking must be sewed."
"What's the matter, Grumpy?" said Migwan to Hinpoha, who had been stewing around to herself for the last ten minutes.
"It's this old orange I brought along for lunch," burst out Hinpoha. "I don't know what to do with it. If I put it in my bloomers it bangs against my leg, and if I carry it in my bag it bangs against my stomach, and if I carry it in my hand I drop it every other minute. It's driving me crazy."
"Why don't you eat it?" asked Migwan simply.
"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Hinpoha, and soon had the offending orange safely disposed of.
Lunch time found Sahwah and Nakwisi close to a farm house and they went in to ask for a drink of water. The farmer's wife looked curiously at the two girls in bloomers carrying a can of red paint. Sahwah introduced Nakwisi and herself and explained what they were doing. "Land sakes alive!" exclaimed the farmer's wife, "what girls don't do nowadays! Livin' like Indians and walkin' their legs off just for the fun of it! Come right in and I'll see if I can't find something better than water to give you." She bustled out into the summer kitchen and returned with a pitcher of milk and two glasses. "Here, drink this along with your sandwiches, and try a dish of berries." Sahwah and Nakwisi needed no second invitation. Their sandwiches had been pretty well baked in the sun for the last two hours and were as dry as straw, so the milk and berries were decidedly refreshing.
"How restful it is here," sighed Sahwah luxuriously, leaning back in the cushioned rocking chair. "Can't you stay a spell, girls, and rest up?" said their hostess cordially.
"We have half an hour for our noonday rest," said Sahwah, "and I'd like to take it right in this chair, if you don't mind." She slipped off her shoes and stretched her feet to rest them, closing her eyes meanwhile, and Nakwisi followed suit.
When they finally rose to go the farmer's wife brought out a plate of cookies which she urged them to take along to eat on the road. She stood looking after them for a long time as they trudged along in the yellow dust. "I wish I could go along with 'em, over the hills," she exclaimed suddenly to the unheeding hens that were walking up and down the steps, "I'm tired of staying at home and doing the same things over and over again. I wish I could go along too!"
Chapa and Gladys, following the blazes through the woods, found their path barred at one place by a rather wide brook. The trail was marked again on the other side. "How are we going to get across?" asked Gladys.
"Wade through," said Chapa, briefly, sitting down and commencing to pull off her shoes and stockings.
Gladys put her hand into the water and shook her head. "It's too cold," she said, drawing back.
"No, it isn't," said Chapa, "the rest went through it. Come on, you'll be all right." Stuffing her stockings into her shoes, she threw them to the farther bank, and then stepping into the swift little stream she waded across calmly. Gladys hesitated for several minutes before she could make up her mind to put her feet in the water, but finally, encouraged by Chapa, she stepped gingerly in. "Be careful of the rocks, they're slippery," warned Chapa, but the warning was hardly out of her mouth when Gladys slipped on one of the smooth stones and sat down with a mighty splash. Chapa flew to the rescue and pulled her out on the bank.
"What will I do?" wailed Gladys, "I can't go on with these wet bloomers."
"Wear my bathing suit," suggested Chapa, untying it from around her waist where she had been wearing it as a sort of sash, with all her impedimenta stuck into the folds. So Gladys changed to the bathing suit, and Chapa fixed the wet bloomers on a stick which they could carry between them, so they would be dry by the time they reached the night's encampment.
"We ought to be pretty near the end of our journey," said Nyoda to Medmangi, at about half-past four in the afternoon. "Have you caught sight of Balsam Lake yet?"
Medmangi shook her head. "The woods are too thick to see anything through," she answered. "Let's call," said Nyoda. Together they raised their hands to their mouths and sent out the long, yodling call of the Camp Fire Girls, and then stood silent, listening. Before the echoes had ceased coming out of the woods the call was answered from somewhere beyond the trees. "We're nearly there!" said Nyoda, and they quickened their pace as they went through the last strip of woods. Soon they heard voices and saw figures moving about in the distance, and presently they came upon the rest of the girls on the shore of the tiny lake. Some of the girls were lying at full length on the soft ground; others were preparing supper. Hinpoha was chopping wood with her hatchet; Sahwah was shaving chocolate with hers. The fire was built close to the water's edge and the firelight shone out redly across the water.
Migwan set a can of beans in the embers to warm, then she sat down on the beach to enjoy the view. The late afternoon sun was pouring its full glory on the lake, making its surface one dazzling sheet of light. Migwan shaded her eyes with her hand, and drank in the splendor of the scene with all her beauty-loving soul. "Now I know how Scott felt when he wrote:
"One burnished sheet of living gold,Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,"'
mused Migwan, and fell to dreaming dreams as golden as the setting sun.
Around the fire the tongues were wagging merrily. "We met a man with a wagon and he said, 'Jump in,' and we said, 'No, thank you,' and he said, 'Well, don't, then, ding it.'—"
"We ate our lunch beside a brook and Migwan dropped her sandwiches in and had bread soup—"
"We met a bull and Hinpoha climbed the fence into a field and there were two bulls in that field—"
"Nyoda sat down in a potato patch to tie her shoe and the farmer came out and yelled—"
BANG! There was a terrific explosion that scattered the firebrands among the girls and showered them with ashes and fragments of potatoes. They sprang to their feet, extinguishing the fires that started in various places, and asking what had happened. Nyoda's glance happened to fall on Hinpoha, who had sat nearest the fire. The whole front of her middy was plastered with—beans!
On the ground by the fire lay the flattened remains of a tin can. Migwan had put the beans to heat without opening the can. Shrieks of laughter arose when the truth dawned on the girls and it was many a day before they left off teasing Migwan about it. The fire was built up again, bacon "frizzled," and toast and cocoa made. "And my mouth was just watering for baked potatoes," wailed Hinpoha.
"And mine for baked beans," echoed Sahwah.
"You shouldn't eat potatoes if you want to get thin," saidMigwan.
"Shouldn't I, Nyoda?" asked Hinpoha, appealing to her guardian.
Nyoda pursed up her lips and recited with a judicial air:
"If you would slimmer grow, my daughter,Eat no starches, drink no water."
Sahwah then took up the tale:
"Look not on the candy sweet,Fall not for the fat of meat."
Thus it went round the circle, each girl pointing her finger atHinpoha and reciting a couplet:
"If your fat you'd wear away,Exercise ten hours a day,"
"If you would grow thin and graceful,Eat of lemons this whole caseful."
"If you think that you're too large,Swim ahead and tow the barge."
"If you really would grow small,Don't eat anything at all."
"I think you're mean," said Hinpoha, wiping away mock tears. Immediately all the girls flung themselves on her, hugging and caressing her.
"Never mind, 'Poha," they comforted, "we love you anyhow. We couldn't live without you."
"Did anybody catch up with anybody else today?" asked Sahwah. Nyoda and Medmangi sprang to their feet, and pointing scornfully at Chapa and Gladys, sang to the tune of "Forsaken:
"O'ertaken, o'ertaken, o'ertaken were they,On a stone by the roadside they sat plain as day;We sat down beside them and sang them this song,Which caused them to rise up and travel along."
"We made a song, too," cried Migwan and Hinpoha, springing to their feet. "It's to the tune of 'Jingle Bells.'" And keeping time with their feet, they sang:
"Marching through the woods,Onward day by day,Round the lake we go,Singing all the way.Packs strapped to our backs,There our eats we stow,Oh, what fun it is to hikeWith the girls of Wohelo!
Wohelo, Wohelo,Singing all the day,O what fun it is to hikeAround the world away!"
The girls joined in the chorus, and then went back to the beginning, and in a few minutes the song had been "adopted for use." By this time the fire was burning low and Nyoda reminded the girls that they had walked twelve miles that day and had a still longer tramp ahead on the morrow. "It doesn't seem possible that I've walked so far today," said Migwan, sitting up and stretching. "I'm not nearly as tired as I have been some days last winter after school."
The girls had all picked out their sleeping places before dark and made up their beds on the ground. Before retiring they all took a dip in the lake, splashing around in the darkness and barking their shins on the rocks. Gladys and Chapa sought their beds first. It was the first time that Gladys had ever slept on the ground. "There's a rock in my back and my feet are higher than my head," she wailed.
"Then let's move," said Chapa, and suiting the action to the word, she picked up the bed and deposited it in another place. This was fairly comfortable and they subsided.
Next an uproar arose from a bed near the beach. "There's a million ants in my bed!" shrieked Migwan, jumping up and shaking her blankets. She had spread her bed on a colony of ant hills, and the ants had improved the shining hours until bedtime by crawling between the blankets.
Sahwah was the last in bed, having stayed in the water longer than the others. She was strangely wakeful and lay for a long time staring up at the pines towering above her, that seemed to rise hundreds of feet before a branch appeared. She amused herself by reaching out her hand and identifying her belongings, which hung on a bush at her head. Her hand closed over the can of red paint. Like lightning she had an inspiration. She raised her head and looked at the next bed. "It's Migwan," she said to herself. Grasping the paint brush, she reached over and daubed the face of the sleeper. Then she settled down and slept.
Gladys woke up in the gray dawn and looked out from her sandwich bed. The lake was completely hidden by a thick mist. Drops were coming down, patter, patter, on her poncho. "Chapa," she whispered excitedly to her partner, "it's raining!"
"Well, what of it?" answered Chapa, without opening her eyes, and pulling the poncho over their heads, she resumed her slumbers. Gladys drew a horrified breath at the idea of sleeping on the ground in the rain, but the cozy dryness of her bed soon wooed her back to slumber. When she opened her eyes again the sun was rising over the lake. No, there were two suns, one in the lake which was making it boil and send up clouds of steam, and another in the sky which was drawing up the vapor. Soon the bugle blew and the camp woke to activity.
With a whoop the girls made for the lake for their morning plunge. "Gladys!" said Nyoda, "what is the matter with your face?" On each cheek, as well as on her nose and forehead, there was a daub of red.
Sahwah stared, then she giggled. "I thought it was Migwan beside me," she explained. "Excuse me, Gladys, I didn't mean to decorate you." Gladys, however, evidently thought differently, for she was decidedly cool to Sahwah from then on.
Just before breakfast the girls assembled on the high cliff to sing the morning song. Their choice was Rousseau's beautiful hymn,
"When the mists have rolled in splendorFrom the beauty of the hills."
The mist curtains were rolling up from the lake in the morning sun, disclosing the lofty brow of Mount Washington in the distance, and the girls felt very near to God and Nature as they sang the inspired words.
Breakfast was cooked in the open and consisted of fruit, pancakes and cocoa. Hinpoha heroically passed up both the pancakes and the cocoa and contented herself with one piece of dry toast.
The hike proceeded in order just as on the previous day. Right after breakfast the ponchos were rolled and the pathfinders struck the trail through the woods. The first note left by them read: "10:30. First rest. 'Ware the pest!"
"Wonder what they meant by that?" said Hinpoha to Migwan. They soon found out. At the last blaze the path dipped into dense woods. From all sides rose a cloud of mosquitoes which settled on every exposed portion of their persons and stung viciously. "Ooo, wow!" they cried, breaking into a run and brushing the mosquitoes off with branches. Before they entered the next woods they stripped the bark off a fallen birch log and made leggings of it, tying them on with their handkerchiefs.
Migwan made up a song as they went along and taught it toHinpoha. The tune was "Solomon Levi:"
"Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red,Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led,We follow the blazes through the wood like hounds upon the hunt,We keep our feet upon the path and our faces to the front!
Oh, Winnebagos! 'Bagos, tra la la la,Oh, Winnebagos! 'Bagos, tra la la la la la la,Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red,Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led!"
"I suppose you'll be a great poet when you grow up," saidHinpoha, stooping to pick a cluster of ripe strawberries.
Migwan sighed. "No, I'll never be a great poet," she answered, "but I may be able to write stories in time, if I learn enough about composition."
"What college are you going to?" asked Hinpoha.
"I'm not going at all," said Migwan seriously. "You know, since father died we have had to live very carefully, and high school is all mother can do for me. I have to go to work as soon as I graduate."
"It's too bad," sympathized Hinpoha. "You ought to go to college more than any of us. Here am I, with no more brains than a rabbit, going to Smith. It isn't fair. Can't you work your way through and go anyhow?"
Migwan shook her head. "You see, we will need the money I earn to send Betty and Tom to high school."
Thus talking earnestly they followed the blazes until they came to a place where the path divided around a very dense piece of woods. "You take one path, and I'll take the other," said Migwan, "and we'll see who comes out first." They separated and Migwan plunged into the darker of the two paths. It was hard breaking through. Small scrub pines closed over the path, their branches intertwined, so that more than once she had to use her hatchet. Roots and vines tangled her feet and made her stumble. Then she wedged her foot in between two stumps and could not get it out. She pulled and twisted and finally grasped hold of the stem of a small tree and braced herself firmly while she endeavored to free herself. With a sudden jerk her foot came free, and at the same instant the tree came up by the roots, the ground caved in beneath it and Migwan began to fall. She now discovered what she had not noticed before, that the path was on the edge of a very deep ravine which was hidden by the thick bushes. Straight down she rolled for about fifty feet, vainly trying to stop herself by grasping the small bushes. Deep down in the gully she came to a stop not two feet away from a small stream.
"I'm not dead, anyhow," was her first thought as she scrambled to her feet. A red-hot stab of agony went through her left knee and she sank down again, white and faint. "Dislocated," she said to herself after inspecting the injured member. "Let's see if I can put it back." Migwan had had First-Aid work and had learned to set dislocations, so she slipped the joint back into place before it could get a chance to swell, and bound it fast with a strip of the bandage the girls always carried with them. At that the pain made her sick to her stomach and she lay back, her head reeling. When she could see clearly again she sat up and looked around. It was nearly dark, as the thick pines shut out the declining rays of the sun. She called aloud till the echoes rang, but there was no answering call. The gravity of the situation came home to her, but Migwan was not one to whimper. She had nothing with her to eat, but there was clear water at hand and she drank and bathed her scratched face and hands. Then she lay still and thought things out.
"They'll surely find me sometime," she reflected, "for Hinpoha knows which path I took. The cave-in will tell the tale. There's nothing in the woods to hurt me, either man or beast. My knee is back in joint and will begin to heal while I stay here. Things might have been worse." Beside her lay a dry pine tree and she chopped it up and built a fire. For a long time she lay looking up at the great pines above her, lost in romantic fancies, her beautiful, expressive eyes shining in the firelight. By and by she slept, her head pillowed on her sweater.
She was aroused by the squalling of the jays in the pine trees. Sunlight was filtering down through the branches. She felt chilly from her sleep on the ground, although the trees had kept the dew from her. Sitting up, she exercised her arms to get up the circulation. Then, leaning on a heavy stick and hobbling on one foot, she began to look about her. Not far from where she had fallen there was an opening in the undergrowth and through this Migwan could see another path about six feet lower down the slope.
"I wonder if they would come this way," thought Migwan. "I had better put a blaze in the road so they can find me." She was casting about for something that would attract the attention of the searchers when she heard footsteps coming down the path. "They're coming," she thought, and was just ready to fall on Hinpoha's neck, when out of the woods came two men, one of them carrying a little boy. A few paces from where Migwan stood, hidden by a large tree trunk, they came to a halt, and the one man, pulling out a purse, began to count money. The little boy was dressed in a white sailor suit and hat, and his hair under the hat brim was yellow and curly. A beam of sunlight fell directly on him, making such a pretty picture that Migwan could not help snap-shotting him. Her camera still hung around her neck in its case, having luckily escaped injury by her fall. Then she stepped out and called to the men. Both started violently. Migwan hastened to explain her plight.
"Sorry we can't carry you along," said the man with the purse, "but we have to catch the boat at the lake and that would make us miss it."
"Can't you tell someone where I am?" asked Migwan.
"Why, yes, yes," answered the man, pulling out his watch. "We'll send some one for you." They disappeared down the path at a quick pace, and Migwan sat down by the opening and waited.
Hinpoha, following the path taken by the leaders, was tripping blithely along, not looking where she was going, with the result that she ran into a pine branch which caught her long hair, and in freeing herself broke the chain of her locket, which slipped to the ground and hid among the leaves. Hinpoha got down on her knees and hunted for it. The minutes passed, but still she did not find it. She did not worry about Migwan because she knew she would wait where the paths met. Chapa and Gladys caught up and helped her search, and finally they found it. Upon reaching the main path, however, they did not see Migwan. "Probably got tired waiting and went on by herself," said Hinpoha. "Serves me right." And she walked on with Gladys and Chapa.
Two hours later they reached camp, and Hinpoha began calling around for Migwan, but there was no sign of her. "Are you sure she isn't hiding about the camp to surprise us?" asked Hinpoha hopefully. Sahwah seized the bugle and blew the call which meant, "Come at once, no matter what you are doing," but there was no answer. Thoroughly frightened, they started back on the trail, meeting Nyoda and Medmangi just coming in. At the story of Migwan's disappearance Nyoda immediately planned a search. But first of all she insisted on the girls eating their supper. Then she reminded them that they had walked fifteen miles that day and most of them needed rest. Hinpoha stoutly maintained that she was as fresh as a May morning and declared she would walk all night to find Migwan. "What if she never comes back!" she wailed. Her knees gave way under her at the thought and she sank down at Nyoda's feet, her head on her arms.
"Of course she'll come back," said Nyoda confidently, but her heart was like water within her. These girls were all in her charge for the summer and she was responsible for their welfare. What had become of Migwan? The party that finally started out were Nyoda, Hinpoha, Sahwah and the man who had watched the camp while the girls were away, who drove his wagon along the roadway and let the girls ride in turn. They explored the woods back to where the two paths emerged from the thicket, calling and searching with lanterns. All to no purpose. They went over every inch of the path down which Migwan had disappeared. Now Migwan, in coming through, had strayed off the path, which was very hard to follow, and the place where she had gone over the edge was at least twenty feet from the true path. The searchers therefore did not find the evidence of her fall, and as the time when they stood there and called to her corresponded with the time when Migwan lay in a dead faint, she made no response, and they passed on.
The night wore on and the searchers grew more and more alarmed. Hinpoha dissolved in tears and declared she just couldn't live without Migwan. Nyoda tried to comfort her with all sorts of cheering possibilities, but her own heart was troubled and anxious. They retraced their route back to the place where they had camped the night before, but found nothing. Then, discouraged and panic-stricken, they began to retrace their steps to camp. Morning light brought a new disclosure. Not only had they lost Migwan somewhere in the great woods, but they themselves were completely off the trail of the day before. At one of the dim cross-roads they had made a misturn, and were now wandering around without the slightest notion of where they were going. "Well, I'll be jiggered," said the man with the wagon. "I thought I knew these here woods pretty well, but I'm blamed if I know where we are now. Everything looks turned around; I'd swear now, that that was the west over there, yet there is the sun a-risin' as big as life. I'm plumb addled!"
They advanced uncertainly, looking closely for the red-marked trees of the hike. "This road looks as if it went somewhere," said Hinpoha. They stuck to the road for a while but soon saw a sign board reading, "Cambridge, 7 miles." Cambridge was a town lying exactly in the opposite direction from Loon Lake. Bewildered, they turned back and Hinpoha left the main road and followed a narrow path that led into the woods. Wearily Nyoda walked after her. She was at her wits' end.
"It's no use, Hinpoha," she said sadly. "This path isn't any better than the road. We never went through this gully on the hike."
"Still, it might lead to one we know," answered Hinpoha, and they kept on. The path seemed endless, and was hard to walk in, for it was on the side of a hill.
"Let's turn back," pleaded Nyoda. "We're only wasting our strength without getting anywhere."
"Maybe we had better," answered Hinpoha in a discouraged tone. Just then the path turned sharply, and as they rounded the corner they came upon a figure sitting in the long grass. "Migwan!" cried Nyoda, and stood as if petrified. Hinpoha pointed her finger and tried to sing "O'ertaken," but burst into tears instead and fell on Migwan's neck. Explanations were soon made and Migwan was carried to the wagon to be petted and fussed over as if she had been lost for a year.
So, wearied but triumphant, the hunting party returned to camp with the trophy of the chase.
It was the end of the swimming period and Nyoda was thoroughly exhausted. She had been giving Gladys her first swimming lesson. It had taken a week to coax the girl into the water at all and nearly another one to get her in over her knees. She showed a perfectly unreasoning terror of the water. In vain did Sahwah dive off the tower and come up safe and sound; in vain did Hinpoha demonstrate how impossible it was to sink if you relaxed. Gladys doubled up in a tense knot and grew sick with fear, regardless of Nyoda's supporting hand. Finally Nyoda took her farther up the beach, away from the other girls. "Now, Gladys," she said reassuringly, "do you believe, down deep in your heart, that I would let go of you and let you drown?"
"No," said Gladys.
"Then," said Nyoda, "you come along and let me hold you up while you float." Gladys swallowed hard and stiffened out like a crowbar; then as a wavelet washed over her face she clutched wildly at Nyoda and put her feet on solid bottom. And so she went on. With inexhaustible patience Nyoda tried again and again to get her to lie out flat on the water, but was compelled to admit at the end of the hour that she had made no progress whatever, for Gladys had not made the slightest effort to control either her muscles or her fears. Nyoda sympathized with her great fear of the water, for she realized that it was a very real thing; but she was disappointed that she had not tried to conquer it.
Her first impression of Gladys bad been borne out by later events. She was vain and silly and shallow; she lacked the good sportsmanship which made the rest of the Winnebagos such successful campers. Of team work she had no idea at all. She wanted to order her day to suit herself, and put on an injured air if one of the girls declined to help her make a stencil when it was time to clean up the tent for inspection. Her corner of the tent was never in order, and as a result the Omegas were getting low marks in inspection, much to their disgust, for the rivalry between the two tents was very keen. Gladys had officially joined the Winnebagos, having come into the group at the last Council Fire as Kamama the Butterfly. The very name she chose was an illustration of her character. She had no higher ambition than to be a society butterfly. Nyoda sighed, but she knew Gladys was not to blame, for she had been brought up in an artificial atmosphere of fashion and snobbery.
Nyoda saw at once that in order to get the most good out of camp Gladys must be on the same basis as the other girls, so she defined their relative positions clearly at the beginning. Gladys's father owned the camp, so they were in a measure her guests; therefore, Nyoda would not let her pay a share of the provisions, thus evening things up. Gladys had now been in camp nearly two weeks, but she had not entered heart and soul into the life as the others had. And it was not because they had left her out of things—every girl had gone out of her way to make her feel at home. The fault was clearly Gladys's own.
Nyoda was thinking about all these things when her reverie was interrupted by the sound of an automobile horn, and in a few moments a man came down the path from the road. He approached her and introduced himself as Mr. Bailey. He was a private detective, he said, and was trying to locate a child that had strayed or been kidnapped from a family on the other end of the lake. He was visiting all the camps to see if any one had seen the child. Nyoda shook her head. "We haven't seen any child around here," she said. "Was it a girl or a boy?"
"A boy," answered Mr. Bailey, "three years old; at the time of his disappearance he wore a white sailor suit and hat."
"When did he disappear?" asked Nyoda.
"Last Thursday night."
"We were just coming home from a hiking trip then and had lost one of our own girls and weren't paying much attention to anything else," said Nyoda, "but I'll ask the girls who were in camp while we were looking for Migwan." She blew the bugle and called the girls together and when they had come she introduced Mr. Bailey and asked if they had seen anything of the little boy.
At the mention of a boy in a white sailor suit Migwan pricked up her ears. "Why, I saw him when I was lying in the woods waiting for the girls to come for me. There were two men with him, one carrying him. I spoke to them and asked them to send somebody after me. They said they were hurrying to catch the boat."
"What boat?" asked the detective.
"It must have been theBluebird,—the Loon Lake boat—for they were going in the direction of Loon Lake."
"Can you describe the men?" asked Mr. Bailey. Migwan tilted back her head and squinted her eyes in an effort to bring back the picture. "One was tall and had a black mustache. He was the one who carried the boy. The other was shorter and smooth-faced," she said.
"Could you swear to that description?" asked the detective.
Migwan suddenly clapped her hands. "I can do better than that," she said. "I can show a picture of them. The little boy looked so cute I snapped them."
"You have this picture?" said the detective eagerly.
"The film isn't developed yet," answered Migwan.
"How soon can you have it developed?" asked Mr. Bailey.
"We'll do it right away," said Nyoda. "We have a dark room rigged up." Nyoda took every precaution to guard against spoiling the film, and Hinpoha, who was in the dark room with her, hardly dared breathe for fear of working some harm. What an exciting moment it was when the figures finally stood out plainly on the film! The girls crowded around the detective as he held the picture to the light. There were the two men and the little boy just as Migwan had described them.
"What will you take for this film?" asked the detective.
"Take for it!" said Migwan. "You're perfectly welcome to it.I'm only too glad to help if the picture will be of any benefit."
"Migwan's a heroine!" sighed Sahwah after the detective had departed. "I wish I had a chance to do something big and noble! The only time I can be heroic is in my sleep, and then I make myself ridiculous."
"Cheer up, Sahwah," said Hinpoha, "I can't even be heroic in my sleep. Come on, I'll beat you a game of tennis." And off went the two cronies, arm in arm.
Gladys came and sat beside Migwan, who was spending her convalescent days in a steamer chair on the porch of the shack, where she could watch the girls in the lake and be with them during Craft hour. Nyoda had summoned a doctor from the village who proclaimed Migwan's dislocation a slight one and her prompt setting of it a good thing, and promised that in a few weeks it would be as good as ever. Meanwhile, however, she had to keep off her feet, and the enforced rest bothered her more than the pain did at first. She read a good deal, however, and did much Craft work, and the days went by somehow.
"What are you doing?" asked Gladys.
"Making a woodblock," said Migwan.
"What's it for?"
"Why, you cut a design in the wood," explained Migwan, "and then use it to stamp things with, either scarfs or table covers or book-plates. This is for a book-plate."
"What's a book-plate?" asked Gladys.
"It's a thin sheet of paper stamped with a design bearing your name. You paste it in the front of your books. See my design? The tall pine trees on either side mean friendship; the rocks underneath signify that my friendships have a firm foundation. The letters underneath read, 'Migwan, Her Book.' You have to carve the letters backward so they will print forward. The feather design around the letters is made from my symbol, which is the Quill Pen."
Gladys sat watching Migwan's busy knife cutting out the design. "Why don't you bring your Craft work and keep me company?" asked Migwan presently. "I hate Craft work," said Gladys fretfully, "but I suppose I might as well work on my ceremonial gown." She brought the gown and sat down beside Migwan. "Do you think these beads would be pretty hanging down this way?" she asked, pinning several strings of gay-colored beads to the leather collar.
"You aren't going to put those beads on your dress, are you?" asked Migwan in surprise.
"Why not?" said Gladys, "you've got beads hanging all over yours."
"But they're all honor beads," explained Migwan, "and stand for something."
"But I have no honor beads," said Gladys.
"Then you must win some. We all went with our dresses undecorated until we had won honors."
"I don't care," said Gladys, "I'm going to decorate mine. I won't be the only plain one. Miss Kent," she called, as their guardian passed by with an armful of firewood, "I may put these beads on my ceremonial costume, mayn't I?"
Nyoda dumped her burden on the ground and came over to the girls. "Of course you may if you want to," she said genially. "It's your dress. But do you want to? What does the ceremonial dress mean to you? Is it only a sort of masquerade costume to be decorated up just anyhow to make it look fantastic, or is it a record of achievements, written in a language that only Camp Fire Girls understand? Just think what it means to sit in a circle of girls and be able to tell by their costumes what kind of things they have done! We'll pretend that a Guardian from another group has come to look on at our ceremonial. The first one she happens to see is myself. She looks at my costume, sees the Guardian's symbol on the back and the border of small symbols around the bottom. She counts them; there are seven. She says to herself, 'She is the Guardian and there are seven girls in her group.' She then sees Migwan's costume with the four Wakan honors for Written Thought. She knows that Migwan has literary ability and that her symbol is the Quill Pen, because there is a quill sewn to the front of her dress and feathers are never used for decoration except in case of a personal symbol. She knows that Migwan had to work hard for her Wakan honors because above the first one there are two Shuta buttons and a Keda, showing that her first efforts won only third and second class honors, but she persevered until she reached the first class. She knows Sahwah can swim well because she has a fish on the side seam of her gown, which is the place for local or national honors. She knows Chapa must be very dexterous in Handcraft, for she has a great many green beads on her thong. And then she sees you—with a number of gaudy and meaningless beads sewn around your collar! Just what would be her estimate of you? Whereas, if you had no decoration whatever on your gown she would know at once that you had lately joined the group and had not yet won honors."
The beads gradually slipped from Gladys's hands. "I guess I won't put them on, anyhow," she said, not without some regret.
"However," said Nyoda, "there is no need of your costume being utterly bare of ornamentation. I can suggest several things which you have a perfect right to wear on your dress."
"What are they?" asked Gladys, looking interested.
"The first thing to do," said Nyoda, "is to get your symbol put in a conspicuous place. You have designed your collar with the long bands dropping from the shoulders. Now, I would apply your butterfly symbol to each band about six inches from the bottom, and then cut the leather below the symbol into fringe. I would paint the butterflies red, yellow and blue, which are the colors that represent Work, Health and Love. You could also produce the colors by sewing beads over the design. So much for your symbol. Now in the middle of the hem in the front of your dress you may put the Winnebago symbol—the sign of your tribe. You will find it on the banner before the tents and over the fireplace in the shack, as well as on all the girls' costumes. It is the Indian sign Aki-yu-hapi and means 'Carrying Together.' It is the secret of the wonderful team work of the Winnebagos. Develop this in wood brown and green. When you put the fringe on the bottom, instead of using a straight piece, leave the top edge in uneven peaks to represent mountains and outline them with blue beads for the sky above them. This will indicate that you love nature. There you have the costume with the thongs and fringes all ready to receive the honor beads, and there are some honors you should be able to win very soon. You will receive a Handcraft honor for making the costume, and a Campcraft bead for making the headband. You have walked forty miles in ten days—twenty-seven on the hike and the rest going to and from the village. You have done enough camp cooking to win a bead. You will receive these beads next Monday night. If you are sharp you can have enough to get your Woodgatherer's ring. Ask Nakwisi to tell you star lore; also get her to take you into the woods and help you identify trees. You can get enough beads very soon to take away your reproach of being undecorated."
While Nyoda was instructing Gladys in the mysteries of symbolic decoration, Sahwah and Hinpoha, finishing their tennis game, strolled into the woods beyond the court, looking for berries. "Let's make a leaf cup and fill it for Migwan," said thoughtful Hinpoha.
"Poor Migwan," said Sahwah, "she certainly is having a time with that knee. I don't see how she can be so patient. I'd die if I had to sit in one place all day. She's a dead game sport, though, and never complains. She does bushels of Craft work, and studies. I'm proud to be in the same group with her."
"All our girls are good sports," said Hinpoha.
"All but one."
"Which one?"
"You know."
"You mean Gladys?"
"Yes."
"She isn't a good sport, now," said Hinpoha, "but she may develop into one before the summer is over. Let's hope so." Then she added, "She surely has it in for you for some reason."
"I know it," said Sahwah, "and that's what gives me a pain. I never touched her bed the night it fell down, but I might as well have."
"But you did paint her face that night at Balsam Lake," saidHinpoha, with a giggle at the remembrance.
"Yes, but I thought it was Migwan, and anyhow I apologized."
"Well," said Hinpoha with a burst of altruism, "it's this way. Gladys is as shallow as a pie-tin and a big cry baby and all that, but if she hadn't been like that her father wouldn't have wanted her to be a Camp Fire Girl and we never would have come to this camp. It's an ill wind, you know. Anyway, she's a Winnebago now, and we have to make something out of her."
"You're so good-natured, 'Poha," said Sahwah. "I wish I could like everybody the way you do."
Hinpoha opened her mouth to reply, but instead uttered a prolonged "Ow-oo-oo-oo!" They were sitting on a log when the above conversation took place, and Hinpoha had poked her hand into the hollow end. Now she drew it out hastily and began to dance around, shaking her hand violently.
"Oh, what is it?" cried Sahwah.
"Bees!" shrieked Hinpoha. "Run for your life!"
An angry buzz sounded from the log and the bees began crawling out at the end. Hinpoha fled through the woods with Sahwah close at her heels. By the time they reached camp Hinpoha's hand was swelled all out of shape. It was all she could do to repress a cry of pain. Nyoda rose quickly when she took in the situation.
"Get some moist clay at once," she commanded. "There is some in the woods behind the shack."
Sahwah sped after the clay and returned with a large lump. "Now you make mud pies until the inflammation is drawn out of your hand," said Nyoda.
Hinpoha dutifully sat down beside Migwan and played in the clay. After she had rolled it around in her hand awhile it became a beautiful consistency for modeling, so she began making statuettes of the different girls. She had a great deal of aptness in modeling and managed to make her figures resemble somewhat the girls they were supposed to represent. She became so absorbed in her new occupation that she forgot the burning pain in her hand, and gradually the swelling went down.
Sahwah came along to see how she was feeling and exclaimed in delight at the statuettes. Hinpoha held up her hand warningly, for Migwan was asleep. Sahwah promptly fell to making hand signs of admiration. Hinpoha laughed at her antics, and falling into her mood, arrayed her figures in a semicircle on the ground, and sitting cross-legged behind them, made a gesture to intimate that they were for sale. Sahwah sat down and signalled that she had come to buy. She indicated several that she would like to have and Hinpoha held up fingers for the price. Nyoda came along and watched them with keen amusement; Gladys looked on uncomprehendingly. Sahwah purchased the Winnebagos in effigy, paying for them with pebbles, and making hand signs to the effect that she considered them a bargain at the price. Finally there was only one left. This was Gladys. Sahwah refused to purchase. Hinpoha lowered her price step by step, but Sahwah waved her away. The other girls, crowding around to see the fun, caught on and giggled.
"What's the joke?" asked Gladys. Nobody answered. Finding the eyes of several girls fixed on her, Gladys flushed. "It's something about me," she cried passionately. "I know it's something about me. You know I can't understand your old signs and motions and you can talk about me all you want. I hate you!" she cried, bursting into tears. "I'm going home to-morrow!"
Sahwah sprang to her feet, the realization of what she had done knocking her speechless. One look at Nyoda's pained and surprised face upset her completely and she rushed off to the woods by herself. With rare tact Nyoda smoothed over the difficult situation confronting her. It was no use to pass the thing over as a misunderstanding on Gladys's part, for Sahwah's flight condemned her. Putting her arm around Gladys, she led her down to the dock and into the launch. She set the engine going at full speed, sending the small craft through the water like a torpedo, the spray dashing over the bow and drenching them both. The excitement of this mad flight through the water made Gladys forget her hurt feelings. She watched Nyoda, fascinated. Nyoda was of a decided athletic build, tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and dark eyes, and high color. She was the picture of health and joyousness as she stood at the wheel of the launch, her hair streaming out in the wind, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Gladys had a real admiration for Nyoda, which was developing into a "crush," and liked to be alone with her. Nyoda could not help seeing this, and with her deep insight into girl nature knew that the solution of the problem which had worried her so at first was in her hands.
By and by she slackened the speed of the boat, and calling Gladys up into the bow with her, she showed her how to steer, and gave the wheel into her hands. She made no mention of the occurrence of the afternoon, not being clear in her mind just how to begin. Gladys finally relieved her of the task by asking: "What was it Sahwah was saying about me this afternoon when she was talking with her hands?"
Nyoda eyed her calmly. "She wasn't saying anything about you at all. She and Hinpoha were playing a game, a very clever and original game, by the way, having an auction sale in sign language. Sahwah bought all the figures but one, and then, wishing a diversion, refused the last one. It just happened to be the one representing you."
"I see," cried Gladys, breaking into Nyoda's explanation, "she wouldn't buy me."
Nyoda felt weak inside and tingled with a desire to shake Sahwah, but she never changed countenance. "I don't believe that ever occurred to her," she said loyally. "You are so quick to jump at conclusions, Gladys. Just because you couldn't understand what they were doing you thought it must be something unpleasant about you. Your outburst at that time frightened Sahwah so she probably thought she had done something dreadful. Now Sahwah feels badly and so do all the girls. You don't want her to go on feeling that way, do you?"
Gladys said nothing. Nyoda slipped her arm around her and smiled down at her. "You know that the girls are not trying to make it unpleasant for you, don't you, now?"
Gladys smiled faintly. It was impossible to withstand Nyoda's pretty pleading. Nyoda, watching her face, saw that she had gained her point. "And you'll like Sahwah and let her like you, won't you?" she said, hugging Gladys to her.
Sahwah was nowhere to be found when Nyoda returned to camp. Neither did she appear when the supper bugle blew. Hinpoha drooped visibly without her side partner, but Nyoda refused her permission to go out and look for Sahwah. When it began to grow dark Nyoda took her lantern and went into the woods by herself. She soon found Sahwah crouching on the ground at the foot of a tree, her face buried in her hands. "Sahwah, dear, look up," said Nyoda gently, setting her lantern on the ground and seating herself beside Sahwah. Sahwah uncovered one eye. "Oh, Nyoda," she exclaimed tragically, "what will I do? I never dare show my face in camp again. What ever possessed me this afternoon, and what must you think of me?"
Nyoda could not help smiling at the depth of Sahwah's self-abasement. "Cheer up, sister," she said kindly, "it's not as bad as all that. You were thoughtless, that was all, for I will not believe that you were slighting Gladys intentionally."
"That's it," cried Sahwah eagerly. "I never stopped to think what I was doing, and I never dreamed that she would catch on."
Nyoda nodded sympathetically. "I know just how it is," she said. "We never mean to do unkind things, and yet we do them right along, without thinking. The only remedy is to get a habit of thinking before we do anything."
"Not thinking is my besetting sin," said Sahwah, dolefully.
"Yes," said Nyoda frankly, "I believe it is. You do so many things impulsively that you never would have done on second thought. Take the time, for instance, that you jumped off the tower into the canoe and upset it. That was a very dangerous thing to do. You might have landed on top of one of those girls and hurt her badly, or been hurt yourself. Even granting that you were so sure of yourself that you could do it successfully, you set a bad example. Some of the other girls might be tempted to try it sometime with disastrous results."
"I never thought of it in that way," said Sahwah seriously. "I'm awfully sorry I hurt Gladys's feelings, and I'll apologize to her this very night."
"I don't believe an apology would help matters any," said Nyoda slowly. "There are some things you can't make right with an apology any more than you could mend Migwan's dislocated knee by saying you were sorry it got fallen on. It takes special treatment."
"What shall I do then?" asked Sahwah.
"Be especially nice to Gladys from now on. Offer to help her learn to swim, and go out with her in the sponson until she may go out in a canoe. Let her see by your actions that you want to be her friend, and then she won't suspect you of saying unkind things about her. Put yourself in her place. She feels just as strange among you strong, self-reliant, outdoor-loving girls as you would among her friends. You know a great deal that she does not, and she undoubtedly knows a great deal that you do not. She has been abroad several times, and spent a whole year in school in France, while her father was there on business. She paints china beautifully, sings well and does fancy dancing. In fact, she dances so well that various people have tried to persuade her father to allow her to take it up as a profession."
This last statement did not make such an impression on Sahwah as Nyoda expected it would, for Gladys had boasted of her dancing to the girls ever since she had come to camp, and had made fun of the simple folk dances the girls did among themselves. Sahwah, however, was still deeply ashamed of her performance of the afternoon and eager to atone for it and regain her standing in Nyoda's eyes, so she made up her mind that Gladys was a superior being whose superiority would be unveiled by constant effort on her part, and promised to devote her entire time to teaching her the delights of camping.
Then hand in hand she and Nyoda returned to the tents.
True to her promise, Sahwah began the very next morning "cultivating" Gladys. "Have you any middies you want washed?" she asked, as she dumped her own into the kettle over the fire.
"Every one I own is soiled," replied Gladys.
"Bring them along, then," said Sahwah, "and we'll do them together." Gladys brought her middies and Sahwah popped them into the boiling soapsuds, stirring them around with a stick. When they had boiled a few minutes she fished them out into a pail and carried them down to the lake for rinsing, Gladys walked along, but she did not offer to help carry the pail. Sahwah rinsed the soapy pieces in the clear water and was spreading them out on the rocks in the sun when she noticed that theBluebird, which had been making its morning stop at Wharton's Landing, was headed their way instead of passing out through the gap. "Who can be coming to see us?" she said to Gladys. "The boat wouldn't stop unless it had a passenger, for our supplies came yesterday."
It was not a passenger, however, that was left on the Winnebago dock, but a wooden box from the express company. The girls crowded around to get a look at it. It was addressed to the "Winnebago Camp Fire Girls, Camp Winnebago, Loon Lake, Maine." Sahwah ran and got a hammer and soon had the box open.
"What is it?" cried the girls.
"It's a sail!" exclaimed Sahwah, looking at it closely, "the kind you put on canoes."
Attached to the lid of the box was a card which read:
"To the Winnebagos, to save them the trouble of harnessing themselves to their canoe to make it go. In remembrance of a delightful day spent in their camp.
"O joy!" exclaimed Sahwah, clapping her hands. "Maybe we won't have some fun now! Just wait until I get it adjusted." She spent most of the day hoisting that sail on one of the canoes, but finally had it finished, and went darting around on the lake like a white-winged bird, taking the other girls out with her in turn. "It's too bad you can't go out in a canoe," she said to Gladys with real regret, "I should love to have you go sailing with me." There was no help for it, however, and Gladys had to stay on shore.
"Won't you let me help you?" she asked Gladys at the next swimming period. "I'll hold you up if you'll try to float." But Gladys would not let any one touch her in the water except Nyoda. When Nyoda was directing the other girls Gladys stood out on the beach. "How am I going to help Gladys learn to swim if she won't let me?" thought Sahwah in despair.
"Don't go too far out on the lake," Nyoda warned Sahwah that afternoon, her eye on a bank of clouds that was rolling up in the west.
"I know there's a storm coming, and I'll be careful," promisedSahwah, mindful of her new resolution to think before she acted,"but the wind is so strong now it's great fun to be out sailing.I'll stay near shore."
The storm that had been threatening broke loose about supper time, and the girls ran to fasten down their tents. "Whew!" said Sahwah, struggling with a tent flap, "listen to the wind." The great pines were roaring deafeningly, and the lake, lashed into fury, was dashing high against the cliff. "Where are you going?" said Nyoda imperatively, as Hinpoha started down the path to the lake in her bathing suit. "To bring in the flag," answered Hinpoha. "It'll be torn to pieces in that gale." It was all she could do to stand upright on the dock. The rain was coming down in slanting sheets that closed round her like a fog. She untied the ropes that held the flag and tried to lower it. But it would not come. Something was wrong with the pulley. The flag was flapping in the wind and straining at the ropes like a spirited horse.
"No help for it," said Hinpoha to herself, "I'll have to go up on top." The tower swayed in the wind as she mounted the ladder, and the rain dashed in her face, blinding her. Great crashes of thunder sounded in her ears, and the lightning flashed all around her. Up on top it was worse yet. The wind whipped her long hair out and threatened to hurl her from the little platform, so she did not dare let go of the railing with one hand while she released the pulley with the other. "Glory," she whispered as she cautiously descended the ladder, "but the Thunder Bird has it in for us!"
She sped up the path with the precious flag held against her bosom, and found the girls gathered in the shack. Nyoda was kindling a fire in the big open fireplace, and the girls were seated in a circle before it. Then Nyoda, raising her voice above the patter of the raindrops on the roof, read aloud while the girls did Craft work by the light of lanterns. The evening wore away pleasantly, but the rain continued. At bed time they wrapped their ponchos around them and ran for the tents. The hollows between the rocks were veritable rivers, and in the inky darkness more than one girl stepped squarely into the flood.
"I'm soaked to the skin," panted Sahwah, running into the tent and quickly closing the flap behind her, "and I stepped into a puddle up to my knees."
"So am I," said Hinpoha, who was divesting herself of her clothes in the middle of the tent. "Did you ever see such a downpour?"
"Cheer up," said Migwan, who had gone to bed early in the evening with a headache and stayed in during the storm, "the tent doesn't leak, anyway. We'll be perfectly dry in here."
"It'll be all right if the tent doesn't blow over," said Sahwah. "Whew! Listen to that!" The girls held their breath as a particularly fierce blast hurled itself against the canvas sides of their shelter. Gladys, terror-stricken, sat on the bed and trembled. Sahwah hastened to reassure her. "It probably won't blow down," she said cheerfully; "these tents are made pretty strong, and the ropes on this one are all new, but there is always the possibility. Do you mind if I take your laundry bag down? It is pinned to the side of the tent and will lead the water through."
The girls slept very little that night, although the tent withstood the storm and remained standing. The rain still fell with unabated vigor at dawn. At about six o'clock Nyoda put her head into the tent and called Sahwah. Sahwah was alert instantly. Nyoda had on her bathing suit and cap. "What is it?" asked Sahwah.
"One of the canoes has broken away, and is floating off," Nyoda said in a low tone, so as not to disturb Gladys and Migwan, who were still sleeping. Hinpoha sat up and listened. "I am going after it in the launch," continued Nyoda, "and will need help. Put on your bathing suit and come."