"Let me come, too," begged Hinpoha.
"All right," said Nyoda, and the three crept out of the tent and down the path to the lake. The water had risen at least a foot, and the floor of the dock was flooded. About half a mile out in the lake they saw the runaway canoe, now standing on end, now floating bottom up.
"Wouldn't it float in by itself?" asked Sahwah.
Nyoda shook her head.
"It might float in all right," she said, "but it would be dashed to pieces on the rocks on the other side. You notice it is being carried farther away from us all the time. If we want that canoe for the rest of the summer we'll have to go after it."
That was the most exciting launch ride the two girls had ever taken. The little boat rode up and down on the waves like an egg shell, the water going over her constantly, drenching the girls and threatening to swamp the engine. The wind whirled the rain against their faces. Nyoda stood up in the bow handling the wheel as calmly as if she were pouring tea at a reception. Nyoda's strong point was her composure; it was next thing to impossible to get her excited. They caught up with the canoe and Sahwah and Hinpoha managed to right it and fasten it to the launch with a rope. They got back to the dock without mishap and pulled the canoe high up where it could not be washed away a second time. Sahwah and Hinpoha returned to the tent red as roses from their exposure to the wind and rain and recounted their early morning adventure to Migwan and Gladys.
At breakfast time they had to put on their ponchos again and pick their way through the puddles to the shack, where they ate their breakfast. The "Mess Tent" was leaking merrily in a dozen places. By noon there was still no let up in the downpour. Rest hour was spent on the floor in the shack. When Nyoda came in in the middle of the afternoon from a tour of inspection she announced that both the Alpha and Omega tents were leaking badly and the bedding was getting wet. She made the girls bring their blankets, rolled up in their ponchos, into the shack and spread them out before the fire.
The shack was pretty well crowded before the afternoon was over. Besides all the girls and the bedding and the partially painted paddles that stood around everywhere, Nyoda brought in a large supply of fire wood. It was all damp and had to be dried out before it would burn. The rain whirled against the windows, as if seeking entrance by force, but the girls inside, safe and dry, made merry before the fire. Nyoda taught them a new game, called "Johnny, Where Are You?" She blindfolded Hinpoha and Sahwah and set them on the floor. Then each one in turn had to call, "Johnny, where are you?" and upon the other one's answering, "Here!" whacked in the direction of the voice with a rolled-up newspaper. Both had to keep one hand on a pie-tin on the floor between them. Sahwah and Hinpoha both gave and received some sounding whacks, and kept the watchers in a roar of laughter with their efforts to dodge each other. Towards the end Nyoda slipped up and removed the bandage from Hinpoha's eyes and let her whack Sahwah with her eyes open, and poor Sahwah wondered why she could not dodge the attacks any better.
After supper Nyoda proposed playing "Aeroplane." She shooed all the girls but Hinpoha out into the kitchen. One by one they were blindfolded and led in. Sahwah was the first. She was led into the center of the room and there brought to a halt. "Step up," commanded some one. Sahwah did as she was told and her feet were planted on something that felt like a platform. "Now hang on!" they ordered. She hung. It seemed to be hair she was hanging on to. "Up with her!" Sahwah felt herself rising, up, up. The hair sank out of her grasp. The board wobbled under her feet. Straight up toward the ceiling she went, past the rafters and on up, until her head struck the roof. The board wobbled much worse. "Jump!" they shouted. Sahwah gathered her forces for a mighty leap, determining to strike the floor with knees bent so as to break the shock. She struck solid ground before she had fairly started. The bandage was taken from her eyes. She was standing on the floor in front of the fireplace. Beside her was the "Aeroplane." It was a plain wooden board. When she had stood on it they had lifted it up, and Hinpoha, whose head she had seized upon to support herself, had gradually stooped down, to enhance Sahwah's sensation of going up. To complete illusion they hit her on the head with a book to make her think she had struck the ceiling. She had risen about six inches from the floor in all, although she was sure she had gone up six feet at least. Her mighty leap caused the "conductors" much merriment. Gladys did still better. She fell off without jumping.
When bedtime came there was no thinking of going to the tents, so the beds were made up on the floor in a circle about the fireplace. "Does this count toward our honor for sleeping five nights on the ground?" asked Sahwah. "It ought to," said Hinpoha, "it's harder than the ground."
Morning found the rain still unabated. "This is getting monotonous," said Migwan, looking out at the grey skies and the lake shrouded in mist.
"Can't we take our dip even if it is raining?" asked Sahwah anxiously.
"I don't see why not," said Nyoda. But when they were in their bathing suits and ready to start they found they could not open the porch door of the shack. "What's the matter?" said Nyoda, lowering one of the windows and looking out. "Oh, look at the porch floor!" she cried. The flooring had warped up into a great hump before the door, preventing its being opened.
"It looks like a roller coaster," said Migwan. The girls were obliged to make their exit and re-entrance through the window.
"Hurray! No tent inspection to-day!" cried Hinpoha, picking up her blankets from the floor to make room for Craft work.
"It'll take more than inspection to fix your tent up again," saidNyoda, looking out of the side window of the shack.
"Why?" said Hinpoha.
"Come here and look," said Nyoda.
"Why, it's fallen down!" cried Hinpoha, looking over Nyoda's shoulder. The girls pressed to the window to see the heap of canvas that had been the Omega tent.
"Is Alpha still standing?" asked the inhabitants of that tent, craning their necks.
"Yes," answered Nyoda, "which proves its superiority once for all." The Alphas swelled out their chests and made triumphant grimaces at the Omegas.
"I don't care," declared Sahwah, "I'd rather be an Omega any day than an Alpha. We have a better view of the lake."
"But we keep our tent neater," said Chapa, "and so it looks better."
"Like fun you keep yours neater," returned Sahwah.
"We get higher marks than you right along," said Chapa, "and that goes to show."
"Well," flashed Sahwah, "we'd get higher marks if it wasn't for—." Just in time she remembered her promise and broke off abruptly.
"If it wasn't for what?" asked Chapa.
"For the wind blowing our things around so," she finished lamely, and fell to carving her wood block furiously.
"Let's sing something," said Nyoda hastily.
"Migwan and Hinpoha, sing 'The Owl and the Pussy Cat,'" cried the girls in chorus. Thus urged, the two mounted the piano bench and acted out the romantic tale as they sang the words.
"Now let's all sing something," said Nyoda, when the amorous owl and the impassioned pussy had danced themselves off the bench. "What were some of those songs we sang on the hike?"
"Let's sing Migwan's latest song, 'O We Are Winnebagos,'" saidHinpoha.
"That has a good swing to it," said Nyoda when they had sung it several times. "Sahwah, dear, follow the tune more closely with your tenor, you put us out."
"Well, I'mwillingto sing, anyhow," said Sahwah, "even if I can't and that's more than some people do." This last was a direct reference to Gladys. Although she was supposed to have a very good and well-trained voice and had done much solo singing in her time, Gladys steadfastly refused to sing along with the other girls in chorus. Once or twice, after much coaxing on Nyoda's part, she had consented to sing a "solo" on Sunday morning or on "stunt night," but sing mornings in the shack with the others she would not. They laid it to the fact that she considered herself better than themselves and did not want to mix in their doings, and it put a damper on their own, singing because they thought she was criticising them. This was not exactly the case. Once an enthusiastic teacher of hers had pronounced her voice "different" from others and told her that chorus singing would spoil it, so from then on she refused to blend her voice with others. She knew well enough that this was ridiculous, but it pleased her vanity and she kept it up. She would not come right out and tell why, however, but simply said she "didn't feel like singing." Naturally the girls thought her reason a personal one and it made bad feeling all around. Her refusal to sing puzzled and grieved Nyoda more than anything else she did. The Winnebagos were known as a "singing group," and the addition of a trained voice was very welcome. Nyoda thought of course that Gladys would lead the singing in great shape and her disappointment at her attitude was very keen.
"Yes, Sahwah," said Nyoda warmly, "your willingness to use the talents you have is one of the reasons why we love you so."
"I think that any one who can sing and won't isn't—isn't a sport," said Hinpoha emphatically.
"Maybe I have a reason for not singing," said Gladys in a lofty manner.
"Well, what is it?" said Sahwah, exasperated into sharp speech.Gladys pursed up her lips but did not reply.
Nyoda saw that a storm was brewing. It was the inevitable result of the girls having been pent up so close together for over two days. She pulled out her watch. "It's time for folk dancing," she announced briskly. The girls looked out of the window. The rain was still teeming down. "Who's game to put on her bathing suit and dance in the rain?" asked Nyoda.
"I, I," cried all the girls. They followed her to the tennis court, where they did such dances as they could without music and ended up with a lively game of "Three Deep," the water running down over their faces. "Let's play 'Stump the Leader,"' said Nyoda, when they had grown tired of "Three Deep."; "Follow me." She led them a wild chase all over the camp, over rocks and stumps, around trees and through puddles, then down on the dock. She dove into the lake, swam around the dock, climbed out on the rocks, out on the dock again and climbed the tower, from which she jumped, the girls keeping close behind her, all except Gladys. By the time swimming hour was over the girls had let off enough steam to dwell together again in peace and amity.
Late that afternoon the rain ceased and the sun peeped out, pale and wan from his long imprisonment. At the first beam that shone through the girls were out of the shack with a whoop and began putting up the Omega tent. "Let Hinpoha and me do it alone!" shrieked Sahwah, pushing the others away, "if only two do it we get an honor, if more help we don't!"
"Right-O," said Nyoda, stepping back, "do your worst, you two."
The tent was re-erected, and the girls scrambled around looking for their scattered possessions.
"And the looking glass didn't even break!" said Migwan, picking it up from one of the beds where it had landed when the tent went down.
The next morning the sun shone in splendor and the sky was deep blue and cloudless, while a high wind did its best to dry up the ground. "Isn't it fine to be dry again?" said Migwan, looking approvingly at her canvas shoes. "For the last three days I've felt like a water-soaked sponge."
"Goodness, but the lake is rough," said Nyoda, watching Sahwah out in a canoe, which was nearly standing on end. Her hair stood out straight behind her in the wind and she reminded Nyoda of the picture of the girl going over the falls in the "Legend of Niagara." "There! I knew she would tip! For goodness sake, what is she doing now?" For Sahwah had climbed on top of the overturned canoe and was trying to paddle it in wrong side up.
She kept her eyes on Sahwah, watching her rather slow progress through the waves, and did not see a party of people who were coming up the path from the road until they were right beside her. Her attention was attracted by a cry from Migwan. She turned and saw a man and woman with a little boy about three years old.
"Why, that'smylittle boy!" said Migwan. "The one I saw in the woods that morning."
"Then you are the young lady we are looking for," said the man, coming forward. "We have you to thank that we have our boy with us to-day. It was you who put us on the track of the men who had kidnapped him."
"Hewaskidnapped, then," said Migwan.
"Yes," answered the boy's father, "he was taken from our camp by those two men whom you saw. Thanks to your picture of them we put the police on their trail and caught them in Portland. We are just coming home with him now and wanted to see you. This is Mrs. Bartlett, my wife, and our son Raymond, whom you have already seen."
"Come right up and sit down," said Nyoda cordially, "and tell us all about it. We have been curious to know whether the little boy was ever found or not."
They told how the little boy was missed from their camp that Thursday night, and of their frantic search along the shore, thinking he had fallen into the lake. Then some one found a toy sailboat of his in the woods and they came to the conclusion that he had either wandered off or been carried away. No trace of any abductor could be found, however, and it would have been hard work running the men down if it had not been for Migwan's picture of them with the boy and her report that they were headed for the Loon Lake boat. When found, little Raymond was dressed in girl's clothes and effectually disguised. Then Migwan told the story of her fall down the cliff and her night in the woods and her seeing the three on the path in the morning. It was just like a fairy tale.
"By the way," said Mr. Bartlett when she had finished, "did you know that I had offered a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars to any one giving information which would lead to Raymond's recovery?"
"No," said Migwan, "I didn't."
"Well," said Mr. Bartlett, "that's what I did, and I don't see that any one is entitled to it but yourself. You gave us the only definite clue we had to work on. It gives me great pleasure, madam, to pay my just debts," and he handed Migwan a check.
Migwan stared at the slip of paper in a dazed fashion. She could not comprehend the good fortune that had suddenly come to her. Then she handed the check back to Mr. Bartlett. "I can't take your money," she said. "I really didn't do anything, you know."
"That's all right," said Mr. Bartlett, waving her back. "You did a whole lot more than you know, young lady. Just think of the worry and anxiety you have saved us! It's worth the money, every cent of it. I only wish I could offer a larger reward."
So Migwan, still protesting, was forced to accept the check, and the Bartletts rose to go. "Come over and see us sometime," said Mrs. Bartlett cordially, "and bring all the girls along. You might have a sleeping party on our lawn."
"That will be fine, and I accept the invitation in behalf of my girls," said Nyoda, as she accompanied them to the road where their car stood.
Up on the shack porch Migwan was the center of an excited group, and the check was passed from hand to hand. Sahwah sighed enviously and wished with all her heart that she might be the heroine of the hour.
"What are you going to do with all that money?" asked one of the girls.
"It looks," said Migwan in an awed tone, hugging the precious check in her hands, "as if I were really going to college, after all!"
Migwan sat on a rock on the beach making notes in her journal, now and then lifting her eyes to the lake to watch the shadows gliding across the water, as the clouds floated by overhead. Sometimes the sunlight was darkened for a few minutes and the lake looked gray and cold, but on the opposite shore a tiny village nestled at the foot of a mountain, and over there the sun was shining, and the white houses gleamed brightly against the dull brown background. "It looks like a mirage," said Migwan to Hinpoha, who had dropped down on the sand at her feet.
Hinpoha glanced across the lake at the fairy scene and then back at Migwan. "What are you always writing in that book of yours?" she asked curiously.
"Wouldn't you like to know, though!" replied Migwan, closing it up.
"Oh, let me see some of it, won't you, Migwan, dear?" said Hinpoha coaxingly. "I love to read what you write and I never make fun of it, you know that. Please do." After a little more coaxing Migwan relented and handed Hinpoha the page she had just written. Hinpoha spread it out on her knee and read:
"I was sitting in the woods rather pensively the other day when I suddenly became aware of two merry eyes fixed on me from the ground beside me. There was something so irresistibly roguish in their expression that my sadness leaked out of me unceremoniously. As I looked the eyes disappeared behind a leaf, only to appear an instant later on the other side, and a tiny, round red face nodded cheerfully at me. Visions of wood sprites went through my head and I sat perfectly still, so as not to frighten him away. He had retired behind his leaf after that last nod, but as I made no sound he soon looked out again to see if I was still there. This time I got a good look at him. He was no elf, but a berry; a brilliant round red berry with two little holes in him that looked just like eyes. 'Such a cheerful berry, I thought, 'deserves a whole face,' so I made him a nose and mouth with my pencil. When last I saw him he was still playing peek-a-boo among the leaves, enjoying the world for all he was worth."
"Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Hinpoha, when she had read that far, "you must let the other girls read this. Wouldn't you like me to illustrate it for you? I'm just itching to paint that little red berry."
"That will be fine," said Migwan, and Hinpoha sped after her paint box. Hinpoha could not have written that little sketch if her life depended upon it, but her talent with the brush was unmistakable. With a few deft strokes she pictured Migwan sitting in the woods and beside her the little red berry with its comical face. Now it was Migwan's turn to admire. Hinpoha went on to the next paragraph:
"I walked on through the wood, admiring the little green moss stars that twinkled up from the ground. 'Oh, I must get a closer view,' I said, half aloud, and immediately my wish was granted, for a pine tree put out his foot and tripped me and I fell with my face right in the moss."
"How I should like to have seen you!" laughed Hinpoha as she painted Migwan sprawling on the ground. "Haven't you some more stuff I can illustrate? There's such a lot of paint mixed up. Oh, here's another one," she said, turning over the pages:
"I am sitting in the woods near Sandy Beach. Have been gathering blueberries and my cup runneth over. The sun has turned the beach into a Sahara, but here in the woods it is dim and cool and pleasant. I am leaning against a big tree with my feet stretched out in front of me. There is a spider weaving a web from one foot to the other. I hate to break down his handiwork, or rather, his footiwork, but I can't stay here forever, much as I would like to. He ought to have been more careful about getting a clear title to his property before building. This will teach him a lesson, I think.
"Just now a tiny red squirrel ran down a tree, paused beside me, gave an impertinent whisk of his tail and disappeared. 'Lazy girl,' he seemed to say, 'idling away this beautiful summer weather when you ought to be storing nuts for the winter. You'll repent when the snow begins to fly. Idle in summer, hungry in winter.' With a disapproving cough he disappeared.
"There is a blueberry bush nearby hanging full of large luscious berries. I never saw blueberries in their native wilds before. I had a sort of hazy notion that blueberries grew in quart boxes in market stalls."
"That reminds me," said Hinpoha suddenly, "it must be getting near time for our promised trip to Blueberry Island." She painted a bush with berries nearly as big as marbles and read on eagerly:
"I have surprised an acorn in a gross neglect of duty. He is lying on the ground where he fell last fall and hasn't sprouted in the least. I thought all acorns aspired to be oak trees. Think of being a nut half an inch long, and in that half inch to have the power of becoming the King of the Forest, and then let that power lie unused! If I were an acorn I would feel eternally disgraced if I hadn't sprouted."
Hinpoha duly portrayed the delinquent acorn. "I'll tell you what we'll do when we grow up," she said, leaning back and surveying her work critically, "you write books and I'll illustrate them!"
All this time Nyoda and Sahwah had been working on a canoe a little farther up the beach. Sahwah had crossed the lake in the dark the night before and had grounded on a sharp rock that jutted up just underneath the surface, ripping a hole in the bottom of the canoe nearly a foot long. Now she and Nyoda were repairing the damage. "Don't anybody take this canoe out for a couple of days," said Nyoda to the girls, "the pine pitch we put on isn't hard yet."
Hinpoha showed Nyoda the leaves from Migwan's journal which she had illustrated and Nyoda was delighted. "You two had better form a permanent partnership," she advised. "You will produce something worth while in time." Then she added: "Wouldn't it be a fine idea for you to make an illustrated book of the camp doings and send it to Professor Bentley and Professor Wheeler? As long as they are so much interested in Camp Fire Girls nothing would please them better." Migwan and Hinpoha were enthusiastic over the idea and promised to begin that very day.
Sahwah, having determined not to clash with Gladys again, and to make a friend of her at all costs, lost no opportunity to do her service. She filled Gladys's water pail in the morning, she hung up her wet bathing suit when Gladys had gone off and left it lying on the tent floor, she paddled her out in the heavy sponson when she was dying to skim over the lake in the sailing canoe, and in short, sacrificed herself at every turn for Gladys. And Gladys in time began to look on her as a sort of serving maid, who would do any unpleasant task she happened to want done. Nyoda could not help noticing this and wondered how long Sahwah would stand for it, but she said nothing to either one of them, preferring to watch matters take their course.
Things finally came to a head one afternoon during rest hour. Sahwah was out of sorts that day. The night before she had stayed out on the lake after she had promised to come in and as a result had injured the canoe in the darkness. While Nyoda had not scolded her for staying out so long she knew she was disappointed in her and it made her cross with herself. Then the first thing that morning she had received a letter from her mother chiding her for not having written home for two weeks. That made her crosser yet. During the folk dancing hour she could not keep her mind on her feet, and blundered so many times that Gladys, who was her partner, left the ring in disgust. Sahwah was sensitive about her dancing, which did not come very easy to her, and tried especially hard when dancing with Gladys, who did the figures with wonderful grace and skill, and Gladys's conduct on this occasion filled her with unutterable mortification.
Sahwah rushed away to her tent and got into her bathing suit and sat down on the dock, impatiently waiting for Nyoda's "All in!" In swimming hour she managed to get herself into disfavor again. Hinpoha was taking her test for towing a person to shore and was swimming with Nakwisi in tow. She was just nearing the dock where Nyoda stood watching to see if she could land her burden when Sahwah dove off the high tower, right on top of her and Nakwisi, carrying them both under the surface and breaking up the test. Nyoda uttered an impatient exclamation and sent Sahwah out of the water as a reminder to look before she dove the next time. Sahwah's heart was nearly broken and she could hardly eat her dinner. She and Gladys were washing dishes that day, but when the time came Gladys pleaded a headache and went to the tent to lie down, leaving Sahwah to do them alone. It seemed that every dish in camp had been used that day. She finished at last, all tired out, and flung herself on her bed, resolved not to move until rest hour was over, and not then if she didn't feel like it. She was just sinking off into a delicious doze when Gladys reached over and pulled her by the foot.
"What do you want?" said Sahwah drowsily.
"Come on, take me for a ride in the sponson," said Gladys.
"Can't, it's rest hour," answered Sahwah.
"What of it?" said Gladys, "Let's go anyway. Everybody's asleep.They'll never know the difference."
Sahwah looked at her with an expression of horror. "It doesn't matter whether any one knows it or not," she said stiffly. "It isn't a custom of the Winnebagos to go boating in rest hour."
"It doesn't seem to be a custom of the Winnebagos to do anything they want to," said Gladys sneeringly. "You girls let Miss Kent lead you around by the nose as if you were six years old! It's a pity if girls as old as we are have to take a nap after dinner like babies. I for one won't stand for it. I don't want to lie down for an hour every afternoon and I'm not going to do it, so there! If you had any spirit you'd rebel, too. But you haven't. You're just like wax in her hands. If she told you to go bed at four o'clock in the afternoon and stay there, you'd do it! I dare you to slip out and go for a boat ride with me now, I dare you! I dare you!"
Sahwah's hair nearly stood on end with fury at this attack on her beloved Nyoda. "Dare all you like," she said in a choking voice, "I'll not break a camp rule to please you."
"Very well, then, don't," said Gladys, "and see if I care. If you would rather abide by silly old rules than have a good time it's your loss, not mine. I wouldn't be such a baby." She went back to her bed and lay down with the air of a martyr. Every few seconds she would look over at Sahwah and pronounce the word "baby" in a taunting tone.
Sahwah closed her eyes resolutely and pretended not to hear her. She was filled from head to foot with contempt for Gladys. Sahwah was heedless and hot-tempered and undiplomatic, but in matters where honor was concerned she was true blue. All her admiration for Gladys vanished when she tried to lead her into dishonor. As she lay there thinking over her attempts to win Gladys's friendship she saw clearly how Gladys had been working her all this time, getting her to wait on her hand and foot and in return treating her in a patronizing manner as if she were an inferior being from whom such service was no more than due. Her rage rose at the very thought of Gladys. "Catch me doing anything for her again!" she muttered to herself.
She lay very still with her eyes closed for a long time, feigning sleep. After a while a stealthy rustle from Gladys's bed caught her ear. She opened one eye slightly and then opened both very wide in surprise. Gladys was in the act of drawing a box of candy from under her blankets. Opening it, she proceeded to eat one piece after another. Sahwah was so astonished that she could not repress an exclamation.
Gladys looked in her direction. "Have a piece of candy?" she said mockingly, holding out the box, "or are you afraid to do that too?"
Sahwah disregarded the taunt. "Where did you get that candy?" she asked sternly.
"I bought it down in the village, Miss Simplicity," answeredGladys.
"Did you know that we weren't to buy candy and eat it between meals, or didn't you?" continued Sahwah.
"Certainly, I knew it was against the rules," said Gladys, "but I don't intend to have any one dictate to me whether or not I shall eat candy. I've eaten candy all my life and it's never hurt me. If I can't eat it openly I'll eat it on the sly, but I will eat it!"
"Didn't it occur to you that it's dishonest to do things on the sly like that?" said Sahwah in a husky voice. If she had held Gladys in contempt before there was no name for what she thought of her now.
"Who says it's dishonest to break silly rules?" said Gladys, putting another piece into her mouth. "Such rules were made to be broken."
"What would Nyoda say?" asked Sahwah.
"I don't care what she says," said Gladys recklessly.
"I thought you admired her so much," said Sahwah, remembering howGladys was constantly fawning on Nyoda.
"I do admire her, more than any of you," said Gladys loftily, "but that's no sign she can order me around. Go and tell her if you like, old busybody!"
"Tell her what?" asked Nyoda, appearing in the door of the tent.
"That I buy candy in the village and keep it in my bed to eat during rest hour!" said Gladys brazenly.
Nyoda opened her eyes very wide. "That you do what?" she asked. Gladys held up the box. Nyoda said nothing, but merely looked at her, and before the expression in her eyes Gladys wilted and was covered with confusion.
"I don't care, I want some candy," she said, looking ready to burst into tears.
"Why didn't you wait until supper time and pass it around?" askedNyoda quietly, but there was a note in her voice that robbedGladys of her air of bravado.
"Because I wanted it now," she said sulkily.
"Gladys," said Nyoda, trying to conceal her disgust at this untrustworthy trait revealed in the character of her charge by the episode, "have you any idea why that candy rule was made?" Gladys shook her head. "It was made," said Nyoda, "to keep me from dishonor." Gladys looked at her uncomprehendingly. "It is a very responsible thing," continued Nyoda, "to take a group of girls so far away from home. Many of the girls' mothers were unwilling to have them go, and I promised every one of them, on my honor, that no harm should come to their girls that I could in any way prevent and that we should all come back in better health than we went. Now, a change of climate and drinking water is hard on any one, and you girls have enough to do adjusting your systems to the new order of things even with a carefully regulated diet. Eating candy between meals is one good way to produce an upset stomach, and up here we can't take any chances. It would be inconvenient to take care of a sick person in camp, and besides, think of all the fun you would lose! So when we were discussing the difficulties of camping out for so long we all agreed, willingly and cheerfully, to live on a strict schedule recommended by experienced campers, and to run no risks by eating candy between meals. So you see that the rule, which you probably consider merely a piece of tyranny on my part, is not my rule at all, but was adopted by unanimous consent at a meeting of the group. If I were to allow you to eat candy between meals I would be breaking my promise to your parents, and you know that we Camp Fire Girls have taken a vow to be trustworthy."
Gladys flushed and hung her head, although Nyoda had made no reference to her breaking of trust. Nyoda continued: "You, of all the girls here, have need to be the most careful. You are the least robust of them all, and enter into our sports with the least vigor. Your racket stroke is weak and your paddle stroke is weak, and exertion which does not affect the other girls at all leaves you exhausted. That is a condition of which you should be ashamed, inasmuch as you have no definite ailment. 'Hold on to Health' is only another form of 'Be trustworthy,' for it means taking good care of the body which has been given into our keeping. I know you never thought about it in just that way and broke the rule because you saw no reason for it, not because you have no sense of honor.
"And now about this candy you have on hand. I will ask you to put it in the kitchen where it will keep dry and pass it around to the girls at meal time as long as it lasts. After that I must request you not to buy any more, even to eat with meals. We have home-made candy three times a week and that is sufficient."
Nyoda withdrew from the tent, leaving Gladys feeling very small. Hinpoha and Migwan had waked in time to hear the last of Nyoda's speech and saw the candy, and while they were too polite to make any remarks their attitude plainly showed their disapproval, and this state of things galled Gladys more than Nyoda's chiding. Sahwah, with a fine sense of charity, had left the tent when Nyoda appeared. Her generous nature forbade her to crow over a fallen foe.
A nature walk was on the program for the afternoon, but Gladys feigned a headache and remained at home. "Somehow I don't feel like going on a nature walk, either," said Sahwah, when they were ready to start. This was so unusual from Sahwah, who was generally enthusiastic about everything that was proposed, that Nyoda looked at her in some anxiety.
"Don't you feel well, dear?" she asked.
"Yes, I feel perfectly well," said Sahwah. "That's the trouble.I feel too well to go on a nature walk."
"Feel too well to go on a nature walk!" repeated Nyoda. "What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know," said Sahwah. "I feel so full of—of something that I'd like to wrestle with an elephant!"
Nyoda understood the feeling. She had watched Sahwah's growing irritation all day long and knew that in her case the only relief would be strenuous activity. "Then perhaps it would be better for you to stay at home," she said lightly. "You might do some damage to us peaceful citizens. By the way, have you ever swum as far as Blueberry Island? It's a mile, I think. That ought to work off some of your superfluous energy. You have special permission to go in this afternoon. When you get there wait until I come for you in the launch. We can keep our eye on you from the road while you are swimming." Sahwah jumped for joy and ran to get into her bathing suit.
The cool water closed around her limbs like the caress of a loving hand and her irritation vanished like magic. Water was Sahwah's element, and as she propelled herself gracefully across the sparkling lake, feeling the absolute mastery of her muscles, changing regularly from left to right in her side stroke, she might have been taken for a mermaid by some Neckan of the deep. She reached Blueberry Island in good time and, climbing up on the rocky shore, sat down in the sun to dry.
Meanwhile Gladys was not having anywhere near such a glorious time. She tossed on her bed for a long time, feeling more sorry for herself every minute. She still thought Nyoda's explanation of the candy rule a weak excuse for an act of tyranny, and was furious at the thought of having been caught in an undignified position. The tears, which she had managed to hold back in front of Nyoda, came now, and she cried herself into a genuine headache. But it was all self-pity; there was no real sorrow for her fault. She considered herself the most abused girl in the world; deserted by her parents, disliked by girls whom she considered beneath her, and deprived of her rights by a young woman who had no real authority over her.
"I bet the other girls eat candy between meals too," she said to herself viciously, "only they're too clever to get found out. I wouldn't have been found out either, if it hadn't been for that snippy little Sahwah making a fuss!" She worked herself into a perfect fury, and blamed Sahwah for all of her troubles. "I'd give a whole lot to get even with her," she said to herself, and immediately began looking around the tent for something of Sahwah's which she could damage. The only thing in evidence was her tennis racket, and Gladys took it out and deliberately put a stone through it. Then, frightened at what she had done, and thoroughly homesick and miserable, she sat down and began a letter to her father, begging him to send for her immediately.
"Dear Papa," she wrote, "if you only knew what a dreadful place this is you would not leave me here another day. The girls are very rude and horrid and low class; they are continually fighting and playing rough jokes on each other, and especially on me. I don't like Miss Kent as well as you said I would. She makes me go in bathing until I'm all tired out and cold and tries to make me swim when it's impossible for me to learn. She takes me out beyond my depth and ducks me under when I don't make my hands go right. She treats me as if I were a baby and won't trust me out of her sight. It seems they have a rule here about not eating candy between meals and I didn't know it and I bought some and ate it and she called me a sneak before all the girls and made me throw the candy into the lake. I am very miserable and sick most of the time as we don't get enough to eat, and what we do get isn't good. I'm always cold at night and they often let it rain right in on our beds. If you don't send for me right away I may get sick and die before very long.
"Your miserable daughter,
"P.S.: Aunt Sally is going to Atlantic City in August; may I go with her?"
She gave the letter to the captain of the steamer when he stopped to bring the supplies and then sat down on the dock and stared moodily out over the lake. She was lonesome; and in spite of the fact that she had stayed home of her own accord she resented the fact that the girls had gone off and left her. The canoes lay side by side on the beach and Gladys was seized with a fancy to get into one and go gliding out over the smooth surface of the lake.
She was not allowed in a canoe because she had not taken the swimming test, but she considered this another piece of tyranny on Nyoda's part. She could paddle pretty well, as Sahwah had taught her to handle the sponson, and she saw no reason at all why she couldn't enjoy a quiet canoe ride up and down the beach while no one was around to interfere.
"I'll stay near shore," she told herself, as she laid hold of one of the canoes and launched it as she had seen the girls do. She managed to seat herself in the right end and pushed off from the shore. It was more fun even than she had imagined, and the canoe seemed so light in comparison to the sponson that she sent it flying through the water with little effort. "I'll bet they're keeping me out of the canoes on purpose, so they'll have more use of them themselves," she thought ungraciously, "and it's not because I can't swim at all. That was a safe rule to make when I'm the only one who can't swim. And they're my own father's canoes!"
Gladys edged a little farther out from the shore, then a little farther and a little farther. The end of the canoe swung around until it pointed directly out across the lake, and Gladys kept on paddling in the way it pointed. When she had reached a distance about halfway between Blueberry Island and the dock she noticed with terror that the canoe was leaking. She had not been in the group when Nyoda had warned them about not using the one canoe for several days, and as luck would have it, the canoe she picked out was the very one which Sahwah had grounded on the rock. The gash was opening again and the canoe was filling with water. Helpless from fright, Gladys dropped her paddle overboard and buried her face in her hands after one wild look at the distant shore. It seemed to her like a swift judgment from heaven for her outrageous conduct that day.
Sahwah, grown weary of sitting in the sun doing nothing, fixed her eyes on the camp dock to watch for the putting out of the launch. No launch was forthcoming, but she saw a canoe gliding out from the dock. "Something must be the matter with the launch and Nyoda's coming for me in a canoe," thought Sahwah. "How slowly she is paddling, it will take her an age to get here!" Sahwah waited a little while and then slid off the rocks into the water. "I'll swim out and meet her," she said to herself. When she had gone about half the distance she saw that it was not Nyoda in the canoe, but Gladys, and an exclamation of astonishment escaped from her lips. Coming nearer yet she saw that Gladys was in distress and had dropped her paddle overboard, and she doubled her speed, shooting through the water like a speed boat. Raising up her head once, she shouted to attract Gladys's attention. Gladys evidently did not hear her, for she did not turn around. When she was nearly there Sahwah saw that the canoe was sinking, and with a mighty spurt she reached it just as it settled to the water's edge, and Gladys, with a wild scream, fell into the lake.
Sahwah caught her by the hair as she came up and held her head out of water. "What did you take a canoe out for, you goose?" she sputtered. "You deserve to drown." The canoe had not sunk entirely yet, and Sahwah thought that if she could turn it over keel up it would be all right until they could come for it. So, turning Gladys over on her back, she bade her float while she kept one hand on her to keep her above water and reached out for the canoe with the other. Gladys struggled and choked, but Sahwah paid no attention to her, for she knew that she was safe and could not get a strangle hold on her. Grasping one end of the canoe she tried to turn it over. At first it would not move, and so Sahwah exerted all her strength in a mighty push. The canoe stood partly on end, and then came down with a crashing thud on her outstretched arm.
An instant of numbness was followed by the most excruciating pain, and the arm sank limply through the water. Sahwah knew that it was broken. But even then her presence of mind did not desert her. Shoving Gladys out ahead of her with her good arm, she propelled herself with her legs, swimming on her back, and slowly they began to move toward the distant shore. The half mile that was nothing to Sahwah ordinarily now became an endless stretch. The pain in her arm made her feel faint, and her limbs, tired from her long swim, seemed suddenly to have turned into lead. The clouds above turned black, then blood red, then every color of the rainbow. Strange lights and shadows danced in front of her eyes, and there were strange noises in her ears. Her breath came in long, sobbing gasps. The arm that was holding Gladys became cramped and weak, but there was no relief. "Draw, kick, close! Draw, kick, close!" The monotonous rhythm beat itself into her brain. "Draw, kick, close!" Throb! Throb! Throb! Would the nightmare never come to an end? Through the sound of strange voices that were echoing in her ears Sahwah heard a cry that sounded like Nyoda's, and then darkness settled around her and her efforts ceased.
Nyoda, coming down to untie the launch, reached the dock just as Sahwah and Gladys came alongside of it, and held out her hand to help Gladys up. She thought she was being towed for fun. "Sahwah, you naughty girl, what did you swim all the way home for?" she began, and then gasped in astonishment as Sahwah stiffened out in the water and went down. She grasped her by the collar as she came up and pulled her out on the dock, limp and dripping. "What does this mean?" she asked Gladys.
"She towed me in when the canoe went down," said Gladys, her teeth chattering with fright. "She broke her arm and held me up with the other while she swam with her legs." Gladys's knees gave way and she sank down on the dock, burying her face in her hands.
And Sahwah the Sunfish, the lover of maiden bravery, the envier of heroines, was the greatest of them all, and knew it not.
"Is she dead?" cried the girls, gathering around with frightened faces. Gladys caught the word "dead" and her heart turned to water within her. The horror of the afternoon's experience had made her see herself in her true light and she was overwhelmed with shame at the sight. This Sahwah whom she had twitted as being a coward and a baby because she would not break her word, was made of the stuff that heroes are made of, and had probably given her brave life to save her worthless one. Looking back over the weeks she had spent in camp, she could not remember one instance where she had done anybody a favor or entered with enthusiasm into their plans, while Sahwah's unselfish devotion to her during these last days smote her with sharp remorse. In the new light she suddenly saw the vast difference between herself and these other girls. Verily, they were not of her class, because they were far above it. How could she ever take her hands from her face and look at them again? "If Sahwah dies," she sobbed to herself, "I'll kill myself too."
Meanwhile Nyoda was working hard to bring Sahwah around. It was not a case of reviving a drowned person, for Sahwah had swallowed no water. She had fainted from exhaustion. Nyoda rubbed her and held salts to her nose and Sahwah finally opened her eyes. "Did I jump off in my sleep?" she asked dreamily.
"No, my dear, you did not," said Nyoda. "You're a real, wide-awake heroine this time, and no mistake."
"Where's Gladys?" cried Sahwah wildly, starting up suddenly, and falling back with a groan.
"She's all right," said Nyoda, without looking around. Sahwah was carried up the hill and rolled in warm blankets and put to bed with a hot drink, while Nyoda sped the launch across the lake for the nearest doctor.
"Vell, vich von of de ladies has been celebrating dis time?" he said with his German accent, as he entered the tent. He was the same doctor who had come to look at Migwan's knee. "A broken arm? Ach, so," he said, patting the injured member. "And for vy did you not set it right away yourself, like dat Missis Migvan did?" he asked. "She vas a hustler, now!" He talked on jovially all the while he set the bone, and Sahwah stuffed the corners of the pillow into her mouth so that no sound should escape her. "Vell, vell," he continued, "dropped a canoe on her funny bone and kicked herself all de vay across de lake, now. And pushed anoder lady by de neck! I gif it up! And now, Missis Sahvah," he said, holding up one finger at her, "you lie on de bed until I say you should get out. You could get a fever, pushing ladies around by de neck!"
"Andnow," he said, looking around, "de lady vot got drowned, vere is she?" The girls searched through the camp for Gladys, but she was nowhere to be found, and he was obliged to depart without seeing her. Far out in the woods Gladys wandered about distractedly until her anxiety regarding Sahwah drove her back to camp to face the girls and find out bow she was. Near the tent she stumbled against something on the ground, and stooping to see what it was, found the racket on which she had vented her fury that afternoon. The sight of it nearly made her ill. "I'll get her another," she resolved, "the best that money can buy. Hers was only a cheap one, after all."
It was a long time before she could make up her mind to enter the tent, but she finally crept in, hoping to remain unnoticed and hear how Sahwah was getting along. Nyoda looked up as she came in, and pitied her from the bottom of her heart. "Come in, Gladys," she said softly, and Gladys approached.
"How is—" she began, and then her voice broke.
"Fine and dandy," said Sahwah herself, rather weakly. The fever that the doctor had predicted was rising, and her lips were dry. Nyoda feared that the presence of Gladys would excite Sahwah, and led her out of the tent.
"Now Gladys," she said, sitting down on the steps of the shack,"I want you to tell me everything that happened this afternoon.How did it come that you were out in a canoe and had to berescued?"
Gladys told a straight story, not sparing herself in the least. She told about the dreadful mood she had been in that afternoon after the girls had gone away; how she had broken Sahwah's racket, and then, filled with a very devil of rebellion, had taken out one of the canoes. It happened to be the leaky one and her punishment overtook her swift as the wings of a bird. She had given up all hope when Sahwah had appeared magically from somewhere and towed her in, in spite of her broken arm. Gladys's face was crimson with shame when she told how she had tried to make Sahwah take her out in the sponson during rest hour, and had called her a coward because she refused. She told Nyoda everything except the letter she had written to her father. She could not bring herself to tell that. It lay on her conscience like a lump of lead.
Nyoda said very little about the matter and did not upbraid her at all. She saw that Gladys's sins had come down on her head in a manner which would make a very deep impression, and that Gladys would emerge from the experience a sadder and wiser girl.
"I haven't been a very good camper, Nyoda," said Gladys humbly, "but I'm going to try to be after this."
"I know you will," said Nyoda, putting her arm around her, "and you are going to succeed, too. And now let's go and see how Sahwah is."
Sahwah was tossing on the bed and muttering when they came in. She had a high fever and was living over again her strenuous escapade of the afternoon. She cried aloud that the shore was running away from her, that the clouds were tumbling down on her, that a big fish had a hold of her arm. "This rock I am pushing against," she moaned, "is so heavy, I shall never get around it." Nyoda gave her the fever medicine left by the doctor and she sank into a heavy sleep. All that night and all the next day she alternately raved and slept.
Nyoda fetched the doctor again the next day and he predicted that Sahwah would soon be better. "She is a strong von, dat Missis Sahvah," he said. "She has bones like iron! A weak von vould maybe haf brain fever, but not she, I don't tink!" Nor did Sahwah disappoint him. She had a constitution like a nine-lived cat, and her active outdoor life kept her blood in perfect condition, and it was not long before she began to get the upper hand of the fever.
During the second night she woke up feeling delightfully cool and comfortable. The fever had left her sometime during sleep. The moon was setting over the lake, making a long golden streak across the water. Sahwah smiled happily at the peaceful scene. Then she became aware of a figure crouching on the floor beside her bed. It was Gladys, sitting on a low stool beside her, keeping watch.
"Hello, Gladys," she said, weakly but cheerfully.
Gladys started up. "Do you really know me?" she said joyfully.
"Sure I know you," said Sahwah. "Why shouldn't I?"
"You didn't yesterday, you know," said Gladys.
"Did my arm make me so sick?" asked Sahwah, feeling gingerly of the white bandage, and moving her feet to make sure that they were not similarly adorned. Gladys nodded. "Have you been sitting here all night?" asked Sahwah.
"Yes," said Gladys. "Nyoda sat up last night, but I made her go to bed to-night. She is here in my bed, and I'm to call her if she's needed."
"Let her sleep," said Sahwah softly. "And you go back to bed, too. I won't need anything to-night, really I won't, I feel fine now."
Gladys shook her head resolutely. "I promised to sit up with you to-night, and I'm going to keep my promise. You see I can be trustworthy sometimes. O Sahwah," she cried, burying her face in the blankets, "how can I ever repay you for what you have done?"
"Don't try," said Sahwah cheerfully.
"What a miserable sneak you must think me!" continued Gladys.
"O shucks!" said Sahwah, who hated scenes. "Forget it. Let's start all over from the beginning."
"Are you really willing to give me another chance?" said Gladys joyfully.
"Sure," said Sahwah. "Here's my hand on it." She slid her hand out from under the covers and caught Gladys's in a warm clasp. She fell asleep soon after that and did not waken again during the night, but Gladys sat beside her until morning, watching her slightest movement. And the Camp Fire leaven was beginning to work in her, and she was learning to fulfil the Law, which says, "Give service."
The girls were filled with delight the next morning to hear Sahwah calling for her breakfast in her natural voice and clucking to the chipmunks as of old. Migwan sped to the woods for a bouquet of the brightest flowers she could find to adorn the tent, while Hinpoha clattered around the kitchen concocting delicacies. Gladys hovered over her like a fond grandmama, brushing her hair, washing her face and plumping up the pillows, and the rest of the Winnebagos looked in every five minutes to see how she felt. Sahwah had never had so much attention before in her life. Her slightest want was attended to as soon as expressed. The suffering of the last two days was more than made up for by the joys of being a heroine, and Sahwah drank deep of the cup that was offered her.
"This tent is getting famous," said Hinpoha, as she moved about setting it to rights, "there are already two heroines in it. We'll have to change the name from 'Omega' to 'Heroine's Lodge.' Quite a good idea, that," and picking up a piece of birch-bark, she painted the name on it in large letters and tacked it to the tent pole. "Now,", she continued, "we'll name your bed 'Rescuer's Roost' and Migwan's 'Clew-givers' Cradle,'" and she made two more signs, and hung them on the foot rails of the beds.
Sahwah sat up for an hour in the afternoon and Gladys danced for her amusement. The girls gasped with wonder and delight, for they had never seen anything like it. She was as light on her feet as thistledown and as graceful as a swaying rose. Nyoda watched her with keen pleasure, but it was not her twinkling feet, nor the artistic posing of her limbs that held her attention, but the new expression on her face. The old selfish, blase' look was gone, and her features were lit up by an eager smile that sparkled in her eyes and curved up the corners of her pretty mouth. Again the leaven was at work in her, and she was fulfilling the Law of the Camp Fire, which is to "Seek beauty."
Sahwah slept again after that and Gladys called all the girls together around the piano in the shack, where they stayed until supper time, singing softly under Gladys's direction. Sahwah had finished her supper and had been made comfortable for the night and lay staring out into the gathering darkness and wondering where the girls were. Not a soul was in sight, neither could she hear their voices. Then all at once she heard the sound of singing, wafted up from the lake. It was "Stars of the Summer Night," sung exquisitely in three parts. Sahwah could hardly believe it was the Winnebagos, so perfect was the harmony. This was followed by "I Would That My Love," sung by Gladys and Nyoda. Sahwah drew a long, rapturous breath at the beautiful blending of alto and soprano. She was passionately fond of music. Then Gladys sang "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming," her clear high voice ringing over the water like a flute. The notes died lingeringly away, and the silence was broken by the soft chugging of the launch as it bore the serenaders back to shore.
Sahwah composed herself to sleep, the melodies she had just heard still echoing in her ears. A soft rustling outside the tent door made her open her eyes, and she started in surprise at the fairy scene which was being enacted there. In the open grassy space before the tent figures were passing back and forth and winding in and out in the mazes of a dance. So silently they moved they scarcely seemed flesh and blood, but rather a band of woodland nymphs performing their nightly revels. There was one figure among them who was lighter and airier than all the rest, and she darted in and out between the lines, and round and round them, like a butterfly fluttering around a bed of tossing flowers. At last, after joining hands and whirling madly in a circle, they broke ranks and vanished among the trees.
Sahwah tried to applaud, but could not manage it single-handed, and shouted her appreciation at the top of her lungs, which brought the whole troupe to the edge of the tent to bow and curtsey. Nyoda drew them away again immediately, however, declaring that it was high time Sahwah went to sleep.
Long after the other girls lay motionless in their beds Gladys was wakeful and restless. In spite of the fact that she had spent the entire day in the service of others she had no peace. Nyoda had praised her warmly for arranging the serenade and dance, but this only aggravated the trouble she was having in her mind; namely, the letter which she had written her father, the horrid, lying epistle in which she had cruelly wronged kind-hearted Nyoda and all these wonderful girls. He must have it by now, and would undoubtedly send for her immediately. And furthermore, he would probably make all the others go home too. At this thought her heart almost stopped beating. There was only one thing that could prevent it, and that was for her to write him another letter, contradicting the first. It sounded easy to say it, but it would mean that her father would know she had told an untruth, and she shrank back miserably from the revelation. She admired her father and cared much for his opinion of her, and to be branded as a liar in his sight was more than she could bear. He would never believe her again.
On the other hand, the thought of breaking up this jolly summer camp and sending the girls home unhappy made the chills run down her back and the perspiration start out on her forehead. Sahwah and her swimming—could she have the heart to separate them? Her other indebtedness to Sahwah she dared not even think of. Wherever she turned her face she saw Nyoda's trusting eyes looking into hers with a smile as they had done that very evening. Could she bear to cloud them over with grief and disappointment? She was just beginning to rise in Nyoda's good graces. Could she bear to fall forever?
The hours dragged wakefully and her thoughts tortured her like searing irons. In all her life Gladys had never done the hard thing when there was an easier alternative, and the struggle between the two forces in her was a mortal one. But the constant example of unselfishness which the girls had set for her all summer had had its effect, and by morning the balance had swung over to the side of self-sacrifice, and she was fully resolved to write the letter which would make her father despise her. She rose as soon as it was light, brought out her writing materials, and with an unfaltering pen wrote the sentences which branded her with dishonor. It was the most difficult letter she had ever written, but she kept on steadily to the end, and sealed and addressed it as the rising bugle blew.
When it was all over a load seemed lifted from her heart, and breakfast was the jolliest meal she had eaten for some time. For the last three days her meals had been nightmares. The happy chatter of the girls nearly maddened her when she thought that it would soon be hushed and she had done the deed which was to silence it. She could not look a single girl in the face and her food choked her. But this morning all that was over. She joined in making plans for future trips with enthusiasm, for she felt that she had a right to. Whatever would be the consequences of her confession to her father, all the suffering would be borne by her alone, and she had nothing more on her conscience. Feeling curiously light-hearted, she ran down to the dock to give the letter to the steamer captain.
Nyoda had already received the incoming mail and was distributing it. "Here, Gladys, something for you," she said, handing her an envelope. At the sight of it Gladys stood as if rooted to the dock. It was the very letter she had written to her father on that memorable afternoon. It had missed her father in his travels and been returned to her.
"What's the matter, Gladys, have you seen a ghost?" askedHinpoha, as Gladys stood staring open-mouthed at the envelope.
"Nothing," said Gladys, and sped up the path clutching the two letters in her hand. "I didn't deserve it," she panted, as she reached the shelter of the woods. "Some good angel had me under its wing that time for sure." She tore both letters into bits and then burned them and scattered the ashes to the winds. Then taking her knife she cut a letter L in the bark of the tree under which she stood, and pierced it with an arrow, to signify that a letter can do as much harm as an arrow. Every time she passed that tree she saw the mark and renewed her vow never to write another letter in anger.
The next mail did carry another letter to her father, but its composing cost Gladys no pain. It contained an enthusiastic account of her rescue by Sahwah, and then she went on to tell what a good time she was having and what wonderful girls the Winnebagos were. She ended up with the statement that they had such good "eats" here that she never knew when to stop, and had already gained five pounds.
She also sent to Portland for a new racket for Sahwah, paying eight dollars for it. She did not ask her father for the money, but took the whole amount out of her own allowance. Sahwah was up now and running around the camp as lively as ever, in spite of her splinted arm. "Isn't it blessed luck that it's my left one," she declared over and over again, "and doesn't interfere much with what I want to do?" She insisted on taking her morning dip with the rest of them, although of course she could neither swim nor dive. She waded out to her waist and with her good hand managed to splash the water over her chest and head. This proceeding generally filled her with profound disgust when she saw the others jumping in with a grand gurgle and splash, but it was better than staying out of the water altogether.
But the greatest phenomenon in the water just now was the way Gladys was learning to swim. Thoroughly ashamed of her backwardness in this matter, she made up her mind once for all that she was going to overcome her fear of the water and let herself be helped. Of late the girls had about given up trying to teach her. She confided her determination to Nyoda and asked her to be patient with her a little while longer. Nyoda, overjoyed at this sudden show of spirit, took her under her wing immediately. Gladys struck out bravely; lost her balance and went under; came up blind and strangling; blew the water out of her nose and laughed, and then went at it again. She repeated the performance more than a dozen times and every time she went down she came up more determined than ever to master that stroke. At the end of the swimming hour she had taken six strokes in succession with Nyoda just barely supporting her. The next day Nyoda began by holding her up and then when her arms and legs were working rhythmically slyly withdrew her hand and let her go alone. Gladys went a dozen strokes before she perceived that Nyoda had let go of her. She progressed so much that day that the next swimming period Nyoda considered it unnecessary to help her at all, and let her swim up and down the beach by herself and practise for distance until she could take the test.
Sahwah no longer had the doctor come over to see her, as this took a great deal of his time, but went across the lake in the launch to his office to have the splints looked after.
"Vell, Missis Sahvah," he would always say on these occasions, "how many ladies haf you pushed by de neck across de top of de lake to-day?" He always exclaimed in delight at the progress her arm was making. "Such bones!" he would say, waving his hands eloquently. "Dey can knit faster dan my grandmama could, and she was de fastest knitter in Hamburg! If only my son Heinrich could see dose bones! You vould like to see my son Heinrich, yes?" He took down a photograph from the top of his medicine cabinet and showed it to her and Nyoda. "Dot is my son Heinrich. He now studies medicine at de University of Berlin in de Staatsklinick. He is going to be a great surgeon doctor. Next year he comes to America to practise mit me in dis office. Den you can break both of your arms at vonce, for dere will be two doctors to tie dem up!" His deep laugh boomed out pleasantly at his own joke.
On another occasion he led them with an air of great mystery into the kitchen of his house and showed them a basket wherein five kittens were lying on a soft bed. He sat down and took all five of them into his lap. They scampered all over him, up and down his arms, on top of his head, up and down his legs, while he laughed heartily at their antics. He shouted with glee when one of them darted a furry paw into his open mouth. "You vould like von of de liddle cats, yes?" he said to Sahwah. "I vould like to keep dem all, but Missis Schmitt, de lady who keeps house for me, she says no, and I haf to mind vot she says."
"May I take one, Nyoda?" asked Sahwah. Nyoda assented and Sahwah picked out the liveliest one, which was coal black from his nose to the tip of his tail.
"Vait a minute," said the doctor when they were about to start, and after fumbling in a drawer he produced a red ribbon with a little bell attached. "Dere, now, you can find him in de dark," he said, tying it round the kitten's neck. The girls were enchanted with the new pet and promptly christened it "Kitty Wohelo." Playing with it whiled away many a tedious hour for Sahwah when she could not join in the sports with the other girls.
One morning the steamer stopped at the dock and unloaded two express packages of enormous size, both addressed to Sahwah. "What on earth can it be?" she said. "I don't know a soul who would be sending me anything by express." There was a letter for her in the mail and she opened this first. It was from Gladys's father and read: "I am sending you by express a few trifles I picked up among the Indians here, in gratitude for the service you rendered my daughter Gladys on the 30th of July. May you live a hundred years, and wear every one of them out!"
The first of the "trifles" was a pair of Indian moccasins, made of finest doe skin and elaborately beaded. Then came a variety of reed and birch baskets of different shapes and sizes. Most of these were filled with strings of wampum, arrow heads, pieces of bead work and other Indian curios. Under the baskets was an Indian girl's costume made of doe skin, with leggings to match. The next thing that came to light was a large muff of finest black fox fur, and another package contained the neckpiece. In the bottom of the box were a sealskin cap, a hunting knife in a soft leather case, a small Winchester rifle and a pair of fine hockey skates with shoes attached. Sahwah, rendered speechless by this sudden rain of presents, could only hop up and down for joy as each new treasure was brought to light.
But if the contents of the first box took her breath away, when she saw what was in the other her delight knew no bounds. It was a long narrow crate, built of wooden slats, and careful opening revealed a birchbark canoe, big enough to paddle on the lake. Its sides were decorated with Indian craft work and in it lay two paddles. It took almost physical restraint to keep Sahwah from launching it right then and there, one-handed as she was, and trying it out. Only the promise of a grand ceremony of launching when she could use her arm again comforted her for the delay.
One morning not long afterward Gladys announced modestly that she thought she could take the swimming test to-day. Nyoda and Hinpoha got into the sponson and the three set out, Gladys swimming alongside the boat. All fear of deep water had left her now and she moved along easily and swiftly. The first half of the distance was covered without difficulty, and then she began to tire. Even a vaulting ambition cannot supply a powerful body on short notice. Her breath grew short and the water began to run into her throat and choke her. She struggled on valiantly for some time until Nyoda, seeing that she was going beyond her strength, reached out and pulled her into the boat. Gladys crouched in a disconsolate heap in the bottom of the sponson, and refused to be comforted by the assurance that she had done wonderfully well, all things considered, and that a number of the other girls had failed their first test. "I'll do it to-morrow," she said, clenching her hands, "or die."
And she did. The old weakness overcame her at the same distance out, but this time she had the presence of mind to turn over on her back and rest, and went on again when she had her breath back. Nyoda noted this manoeuver approvingly. It indicated good sense. Gladys covered the last twenty-five yards by sheer grit. Every breath was a gasp, the shore line wavered dizzily before her, and it seemed that she was pushing against an immovable wall. Nyoda watched her closely, and saw her rear up her head and set her teeth and battle on against wind and wave. "She'll do," she said to herself joyfully, "she has physical courage as well as the others. She will uphold the honor of the Winnebagos!"
"That will do," she said gently, as the boat grounded noiselessly on the sloping beach. Gladys's feet struck solid ground and she opened her eyes in surprise. "Is it all over?" she asked wonderingly.
"All over," said Nyoda. "Congratulations!"
She was borne back to the dock in triumph, to be praised and patted on the head by all the girls, like a conquering hero. Sahwah was particularly pleased at her success. "When you first came I didn't think you had it in you," she said, "but now I believe you can do anything you want to!"