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The Camp Fire Girls in the Maine Woods - Or, The Winnebagos Go Camping
by Hildegard G. Frey
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THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE MAINE WOODS

or, The Winnebagos Go Camping

by

HILDEGARD G. FREY

Author of "The Camp Fire Girls at School," "The Camp Fire Girls at Onoway House," "The Camp Fire Girls Go Motoring."



New York : A. L. Burt 1916.



CHAPTER I.

A NEW WINNEBAGO.

Sahwah the Sunfish sat on top of the diving tower squinting through Nakwisi's spy-glass at the distant horizon.

"Sister Anne, sister Anne," called Migwan from the rocks below, "do you see any one coming?"

Sahwah lowered her glass and shook her head. "No sign of the Bluebird yet," she answered. "If Gladys doesn't come pretty soon I shall die of impatience. Oh, what do you suppose she'll be like, anyway?"

"Beautiful beyond compare," answered Migwan promptly, "and skilled in every art we ever thought or dreamed of. She is going to be my affinity, I feel it in my bones."

Sahwah looked rather pensive. "Nobody in her right mind would choose me for an affinity," she said with a sigh, squinting sidewise down her nose and mentally counting the freckles thereon, "I'm not interesting enough looking."

"Goosie," said Migwan, laughing, "affinities aren't chosen, they just happen. You see somebody for the first time and you don't know a thing about her, perhaps not even her name, and yet something tells you that you two belong together. That's an affinity."

"But how can you tell in advance that you and Gladys are going to be affinities?" asked Sahwah. "How do you know that when she sees me waving the sheet from the tower she won't say to herself, 'The energetic maiden on yon lofty tower is my one and only love. I can only see one bloomer leg and a hank of hair, but that is enough to recognize my soul mate by. Come to my arms, Finny!'"

Migwan laughed at the picture, and replied mysteriously, "Oh, I have a way of telling things beforehand. I can read them in the stars!"

Sahwah sniffed and resumed her watch, holding the sheet in readiness to wave the instant the little steamer should appear around Blueberry Island. The minutes passed without a sign of the Bluebird, and Sahwah grew tired of looking at nothing. She ceased staring fixedly at the distant gap between Blueberry Island and the mainland, and pointed the glass around at the objects near her; at Migwan washing middies in the lake, her soap tied to the dock to keep it from floating away; at the toothbrushes strewn over the rocks like bones bleaching in the sun; at the smooth strip of shining sand; aiming her glass idly now here, now there, her feet swinging in the air eighteen feet above the water, her long brown hair flying in the wind.

High up on the cliff Hinpoha stood nailing the railing around the Crow's Nest, a tiny tree-house just big enough for two, built in the branches of a tall pine tree. She finished her pounding and stood looking out over the gleaming lake, dotted with rocky, pine-covered islands, shading her eyes with her hand. Her gaze strayed again and again to the narrow gap between Blueberry Island and the mainland, and now and then she heaved an impatient sigh. "Oh, please, dear Bluebird," she said aloud, "please hurry up!" By and by her eyes rested upon Sahwah, silhouetted against the sky on top of the diving tower. Picking up a big dry pine cone from the floor of the Crow's Nest, she took careful aim and sent it sailing downward in a swift, curving flight. The prickly missile hit Sahwah squarely in the back of the neck. She started violently and threw up her arms, while the spyglass fell into the water with a loud splash. Hinpoha laughed a ringing laugh when she beheld the effect of her handiwork. Sahwah turned around and saw Hinpoha perched in the Crow's Nest, nearly doubled up with laughter, and she too laughed, and then, shaking her fist amiably in Hinpoha's direction, she prepared to dive from the tower, bloomers and all, in search of the spy-glass.

As she stood there poised on the end of the springboard her ears caught the sound of a swinging boating song, borne on the breeze across the water:

"Across the silver'd lake The moonlit ripples break, Their path a magic highway seems: We'll send our good canoe Along that highway, too, And follow where the moonlight gleams."

Around the cliff which jutted out just beyond the camp there appeared two canoes, containing four more of the Winnebagos, making all speed ahead, the girls singing in time to the dipping of their paddles. Sahwah curved her hands around her mouth and set forth a long, yodling hail, which was answered in kind by the paddlers. Then the four girls in the boats, speaking all together as with one voice, called to Sahwah, "J-U-D-G-E T-H-E F-I-N-I-S-H! W-E-'-R-E R-A-C-I-N-G!"

Sahwah waved her arm as a signal that she understood, and then stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the shadow of the springboard on the water, watching to see which canoe would cross it first. In a few moments the slender green craft bearing Nyoda and Medmangi shot into view beneath her, the two paddlers shouting triumphantly. Scarcely a canoe-length behind came the other pair. Choosing the instant when the second canoe was directly beneath her, Sahwah jumped from the springboard and landed neatly in the bow, upsetting the craft and dumping the girls into the lake. The other girls in the first canoe, just ahead, turned to see what was happening, and in their laughter over the upset forgot to hold their own boat steady, and presently there was a second spill. Sahwah came up choking with laughter, and was immediately ducked under again by Nakwisi and Chapa, the two she had dropped in upon. The water flew in all directions, and Migwan fled over the rocks to avoid being drenched. Medmangi and Nyoda also came up thirsting for vengeance, but Sahwah escaped by swimming under water around the dock and clambering out on the rocks. She made an impish grimace at Migwan, who was standing on the rock where she came up. Migwan leaned over and put a streak of soap on her face, Sahwah promptly caught Migwan by the feet and pulled her off the rock into the water. Struggling, they both went under and came up choking and giggling. Hinpoha, from her airy perch in the tree, cheered the combatants on. "Good work, Migwan, hang on to the rock! That's the stuff, Sahwah, pull her off!"

Meanwhile, the four racers, at Nyoda's suggestion, had towed their canoes out some distance from the dock and were trying to right them and climb in. This was easier said than done, for as fast as they splashed the water out on one side it ran in at the other. Nyoda and Medmangi were trying to get all the water out of theirs before getting in themselves, while Nakwisi and Chapa had theirs half empty and had managed to get in and were splashing the water out from both sides at once. Sahwah and Migwan stopped ducking each other to watch the righting process. Nakwisi and Chapa had just triumphantly paddled up to the canoe dock, and Nyoda and Medmangi were just about ready to start, when Hinpoha shouted that the Bluebird was coming. The girls looked up to find the little steamer hardly a hundred yards from the dock. "Sahwah," cried Nyoda, hastily coming up on the dock, "where is the sheet you were going to wave from the tower when the Bluebird came in sight?"

"It's up on top," said Sahwah, running for the ladder. An instant later she was frantically waving the sheet from the top of the tower. There was no time for the girls to get dry clothes on before the boat stopped beside the dock. They lined up all dripping, except Hinpoha, to greet, the newcomer, and looked on expectantly when a young girl of about sixteen stepped ashore. Nyoda advanced and held out her hand.

"Welcome to Camp Winnebago," she said cordially. "Girls, this is Gladys Evans, our new member, whose father has made it possible for us to camp here this summer. Winnebago Maidens, stand forth and tell your names! You begin, 'Poha."

"I am Hinpoha," said the girl addressed, an extremely fat girl with an amazing quantity of bright red hair that curled below her waist, "it means 'Curly Haired."'

"I am Sahwah the Sunfish," said a slim brown-haired maiden with dancing eyes. "I chose the Sun part because I like sunshine and the Fish part because I like to swim. I am very virtuous and a pattern of propriety." The girls shouted with laughter.

"My name is Migwan," said the next girl. "It means 'Quill Pen,' and stands for my ambition to write stories and things." She was a thoughtful-looking girl with a beautiful high forehead and large dreamy eyes.

So all the girls introduced themselves, Chapa the Chipmunk, Medmangi the Medicine Man Girl, and Nakwisi the Star Maiden. "And this," they cried in unison, encircling one of their number with affectionate arms, "is Nyoda, the best Guardian that ever lived!"

"How do you do, Miss Kent?" said Gladys, in a high, artificially sweet voice, staring amazedly at her wet clothes and then around at the dishevelled group. She was a very fair girl, rather tall, but slender and pale and delicate looking. "Stuck up," was Sahwah's mental estimate.

"How do you do, girls?" she continued, edging, back a little, as if she were afraid they might also enfold her in a wet embrace, "would you mind telling me your names?"

"We told you our names," said Sahwah.

"I mean your real names," answered Gladys, "you don't expect me to remember all those Camp Fire names, do you?"

"Oh, you'll learn them soon enough," said Nyoda, "we left our old names behind us when we came to camp." Silence fell on the group, and each girl was acutely conscious of her wet clothes. Sahwah looked to see Migwan and Gladys fall into each other's arms, but nothing happened. Nyoda was busy checking over the supplies brought by the boat. The silence became awkward.

"Look, there's an eagle," shrieked Hinpoha suddenly, pointing to a large winged bird that was circling slowly above the lake.

"Quick, where's my glass?" said Nakwisi.

"Wait a minute, I'll get it for you," said Sahwah, and quick as a flash she dove off the end of the dock, coming up with the spy-glass in her hand. Gladys's eyes nearly popped out of her head as Sahwah cast herself headlong into the water.

"Awfully sorry, 'Wisi, I dropped it in off the tower," said Sahwah, tendering her the glass, "will getting it wet hurt it any?" Nakwisi screwed her beloved glass back and forth and wiped the lenses and finally reported it unharmed.

"Sahwah, Sahwah," said Nyoda, shaking her head, "you will never learn to be careful of other people's things?"

Sahwah flushed. "I didn't mean to be careless with it, it just slipped out of my hand."

Here Hinpoha spoke up. "It's all my fault, Nyoda," she explained. "I hit her with a pine cone and made her drop it."

Nyoda could do nothing but laugh at the good-natured sparring that was continually going on between those two. "Come on, girls," she called, "and get dry clothes on. Whoever gets dressed first may go to the village with me this afternoon."

The girls scurried up the steep path like squirrels and Nyoda followed more slowly with Gladys, whose city shoes made it hard for her to climb. As they went up she explained how she happened to be so wet, describing in detail the upsetting of the canoes. Gladys's eyes opened wide at the tale of Sahwah's pranks. "How dreadful," she said with a shudder, and Nyoda sighed inwardly, for she realized that she had a problem on her hands.

Gladys Evans was not a regular member of the Winnebago Camp Fire. She did not attend the public high school where the other girls went, but went to a private girls' school in the East. Early in the spring, Mr. Evans, with whom Miss Kent was slightly acquainted, came to her and offered her group the use of his camping grounds on Loon Lake in Maine for the summer if they would take Gladys in and teach her to do the things they did. He had become interested in the Winnebago group through a picture of them in the newspaper, and thought it would be a fine thing for Gladys. He and Mrs. Evans were going on an all-summer trip through Canada with a party of friends, and wanted to put Gladys where she would have a good time. He added in confidence that Gladys had been in the company of grown-ups so much that she felt altogether too grown up herself, and he wished her to romp a whole summer in bloomers and forget about styles.

Miss Kent gladly accepted the charge. Aside from her willingness to help Gladys, the offer of a camping ground for the summer was irresistible. All winter the girls had been trying to find a place to camp for at least a few weeks the next summer, and had given a play to raise the money. They had not thought of going so far away as Maine, but now that they could have the camp without paying for it they could use the money for railroad fares. Such a shout went up from the Winnebagos when Miss Kent broke the news that passersby paused to listen. They sang a dozen different cheers to Gladys and her father; then they cheered for the lake and the camp and the good time they were going to have until they were too hoarse to speak. Gladys was then away at school and was to be in New York City with her parents until the first of July, so Miss Kent and her girls came up the last week in June to open camp. Gladys had never seen the place until that day, for her father had just bought it the previous winter. That she did not want to come was evident to Miss Kent. She was overdressed and rather supercilious looking, and was not strong enough to really enjoy the rough and tumble life of the camp. Miss Kent realized that some adjusting would be necessary before Gladys would be transformed into a genuine Winnebago. "But we'll do it, never fear," she thought brightly, with the unquenchable optimism that had won for her the name of "Face Toward the Mountain."



CHAPTER II.

THE COUNCIL FIRE.

Supper, which was eaten on the big rock overhanging the lake, was made short work of, for tonight was to be held the first Council Fire.

"What's going to happen?" asked Gladys of Nyoda, watching the girls scrambling out of their bloomers and middies and into brown khaki dresses trimmed with leather fringe.

"Ceremonial Meeting," answered Nyoda, slipping on a pair of beaded moccasins.

"What's that?" asked Gladys.

"You'll see," said Nyoda. "Follow the girls when I call them."

Nyoda slipped out of her tent and disappeared into the woods. In a few minutes a clear call rang out through the stillness: "Wohelo, Wohelo, come ye all Wohelo." The girls stepped forward in a single file, their arms folded in front of them, singing as they went, "Wohelo, Wohelo, come we all Wohelo." Gladys followed at the tail of the procession.

Nyoda stood in the center of a circular space about twenty feet across among the trees, completely surrounded by high pines. In the middle the fire was laid. The girls took their places in the circle, and Gladys, now arrayed in bloomers and middy, with her hair down in two braids and a leather band around her forehead, sat under a tree and looked on. Not being a Camp Fire Girl she could not sit in the Council Circle. Nyoda made fire with the bow and drill, and when the leaping flames lit up the circle of faces the girls sprang to their feet and sang, "Burn, fire, burn," and then, "Mystic Fire," with its dramatic gestures. Gladys, sitting in the shadows, looked on curiously at the fantastically clad figures passing back and forth around the fire singing,

"Ghost-dance round the mystic ring, Faces in the starlight glow, Maids of Wohelo. Praises to Wokanda sing, While the music soft and low Rubbing sticks grind slow. Dusky forest now darker grown, Broods in silence o'er its own, Till the wee spark to a flame has blown, And living fire leaps up to greet The song of Wohelo."

As they chanted the words the girls acted out with gestures the dancing ghosts, the brooding forest, the rubbing sticks and the leaping fire. So they proceeded through the strange measures, ending up in a close circle around the fire, all making the hand sign of fire together. Gladys began to be stirred with a desire to sit in the circle.

When the girls were again seated in their original places and the roll called, Nyoda rose and read the rules of camp. No one was to leave the camp without telling at least one person where she was going, or the general direction in which she was going, and the length of time she expected to be gone. No candy was to be bought in the village. No one was to go in swimming except at the regular swimming time. Every one pointed a finger at Sahwah when this was read, for she had been going into the lake at least a dozen times a day. No one could go in swimming whose belongings were not in order at tent inspection time. A groan went around the circle at this.

Nyoda dwelt with particular emphasis on the rules governing the canoes. No one could go out in a canoe who had not taken the swimming test. No one could go out in a canoe unless Sahwah, Hinpoha or herself were along. Disobedience to these rules would mean having to stay out of the canoes altogether. She explained to the girls the importance of implicit obedience to the one in charge of a boat, regardless of personal feeling, and how the captain of a vessel had absolute authority over those on board. She spoke of the necessity of coolheadedness and courage on the part of the girl in charge, and ability to control her temper. She said she knew Sahwah and Hinpoha were well able to have charge of a canoe and she would never feel uneasy to have the other girls go out with them. Hinpoha and Sahwah flushed with pleasure and mentally resolved to die rather than prove unworthy of her trust. Gladys gave a little start when the canoe rules were read. She could not swim. She had been looking forward to going out in a canoe very shortly.

The rest of the rules dealt with the day's schedule, which was as follows:

Rising bugle at seven. Morning dip. Breakfast. Song hour. Tent inspection. Craft work. Folk dancing. Swimming. Lesson in camp cookery. Dinner. Rest hour. Nature study. Two hours spent in any way preferred. Supper. Evening open for any kind of stunt. First bugle, 8:30. Lights out, 9:00.

Ceremonial meeting would be held every week on Monday night, because the girls had so many opportunities to win honors now that a whole month would be too long to wait.

After the announcements Nyoda awarded the honors. Medmangi had taken the swimming test, Nakwisi and Chapa had righted an overturned canoe, Sahwah had built a reflecting oven and baked biscuits in it. All the girls had won some kind of an honor. Gladys listened wonderingly to the account of the things they had accomplished—things she did not have the faintest notion of how to do.

Then came the elevating of Migwan to the rank of Fire Maker. Proudly she exhibited her fourteen purple beads, indicating the fulfilment of the fourteen requirements. Nyoda asked her questions on the things she had learned, and asked her to explain to the girls how much better she had gotten along since she started to keep an itemized account book. Migwan blushed and hung her head, for figures were an abomination to her and keeping accounts a fearful task. If it had not been for her ambition to be a Fire Maker she would never have attempted it at all, but once having learned how she realized their value, and heroically resolved to keep accurate accounts right along. When it came to the subject of bandaging she had to give demonstrations of triangular and roller bandaging, with Hinpoha as the subject. Then in a clear, earnest voice she dedicated her "strength, her ambition, her heart's desire, her joy and her sorrow" to the keeping up of the flame of love for her fellow creatures. Satisfied that Migwan was a worthy candidate, Nyoda slipped the silver bracelet on her arm and proclaimed her a Fire Maker. Migwan blushed fiery red and hung her head modestly.

"Speech, speech!" shouted the girls. "Give us a poem, Migwan."

Migwan thought a moment and then recited dramatically:

"I am a Fire Maker! I have completed The Fourteen Requirements! I have repeated The Fire Maker's Desire! Now I may light The great Council Fire! Now I may kindle The Wohelo Candles! Long months have I labored Gathering firewood, That I might kindle The Fire of Wohelo! My arm is encircled With a silver bracelet, The outward symbol Of the Fire I have kindled; And those who behold it Shall say to each other, 'Lo, she has labored, She has given service, She has pursued knowledge, She has been trustworthy, Fulfilled the requirements, She is a Fire Maker!' That symbol is sacred, A charm against evil, Evil thoughts and dark passions, Against envy and hatred! One step am I nearer The goal of my ambition, To be a Torch Bearer Is now my desire! To carry aloft The threefold flame, The symbol of Work, Of Health and of Love, The flaming, enveloping Symbol of Love Triumphant; where might fails I conquer by Love! Where I have been led I now will lead others, Undimmed will I pass on The light I have kindled; The flame in my hand Shall mount higher and higher, To be a Torch Bearer Is now my desire!"

A round of applause followed. Next the "Count" was called for. This had also been written by Migwan. In rippling Hiawatha meter it told how the Winnebagos had journeyed

"From their homes in distant Cleveland To Loon Lake's inviting waters—"

how they pitched the tents and made the beds, how they named the tents Alpha and Omega, how eagerly they awaited Gladys's coming, how Sahwah was placed on the tower to wave at her,

"And the telescope descending, Fell kersplash into the water,"

and all the rest of the doings up to the beginning of Council Fire.

Nyoda then rose and said that as the Camp Fire was a singing movement she wished the girls to write as many songs as possible, and to encourage this had worked out a system of local honors for songs which could be sung by the Winnebagos. Any girl writing the words of a song which was adopted for use would receive a leather W cut in the form of wings to represent "winged words" or poetry; the honor for composing the music for a song would be a winged note cut from leather, and the honor for writing both words and music would be a combination of the two. These were to be known as the "Olowan" honors, because "Olowan" was the Winnebago word for song, and were quite independent of the National song honors, because a great many songs which could not be adopted by the National organization would be admirable for use in the local group on account of their aptness.

Just before they sang the Goodnight Song, Nyoda drew Gladys into the group and officially invited her to become a Winnebago at the next Council Fire. Gladys accepted the invitation and the girls sang a ringing cheer to her because her coming made it possible for them to have the camp.

To close the Ceremonial Meeting the girls sang "Mammy Moon," ending up by lying in a circle around the fire, their heads pillowed on one another. The fire was burning very low now and great shadows from the woods lay across the open space. Nyoda stole silently to the edge of the clearing and the girls rose and filed past her, softly singing "Now our Camp Fire's burning low." Nyoda held each girl's hand in a warm clasp for a moment as she passed before her and the girls clung to her lovingly. The forest was so big and dark, and they were so far from home, and Nyoda was so strong and tender!

"Wasn't it wonderful?" whispered Migwan to Sahwah, as they picked their way back to the tents in the darkness.

"Wasn't it, though!" answered Sahwah, flashing her little bug light on the path before her.

Gladys's bed was in the Omega tent with Sahwah, Hinpoha and Migwan. One end faced the lake and the stars peeked in with friendly twinkles, while the moon flooded the place with silver light. The three girls were out of their Ceremonial costumes and into their nightgowns in no time, while Gladys fussed around nervously.

"Aren't we going to have the lantern lit?" she asked.

"What for?" said Sahwah. "The moon makes it as bright as day."

Gladys took off her middy. "Where are we going to hang our clothes?" she asked next.

"Throw them across the foot of your bed," answered Hinpoha, "or lay them on the stool, or up on the swinging shelf, or hang them on the floor, the way Sahwah does." At this Sahwah sat up in bed and threw her pillow at Hinpoha. Hinpoha sent it back and Sahwah threw it the second time. Instead of hitting Hinpoha, however, it landed in the basin of water in which Gladys was trying to wash herself, knocking it off the stand and out of the tent door. Gladys gave an exclamation of impatience. Sahwah hastened to apologize. "I'm awfully sorry, Gladys. But you saw how it was. I was trying to hit 'Poha and hit you by mistake." Here the pent-up laughter of the three girls broke forth, and they shouted in unison. Gladys did not laugh. "I'll get you some more water," said Sahwah, getting out of bed. The pail was empty, so Sahwah went all the way down to the lake for water. On the way back she rescued the pillow, which was soaking wet, and stood it up against the tent pole to dry.

Just then came a loud hail from the other tent. "Goodnight, Omegas!" "Good night, Alphas," they answered, "sleep tight!" Again came the fourfold voice out of Alpha, "Goodnight, Gladys!"

Gladys was finally ready for bed. "You aren't going to leave the sides of the tent rolled up all night, are you?" she asked in a horrified tone.

"We surely are," said Sahwah, "we always do."

"What if it rains?"

"Plenty of time then to put them down."

Gladys stood irresolute beside the bed. "We'll put your side down, if you prefer it," said Migwan good-naturedly, "but it's really pleasanter with it up. It seemed rather airy to me at first, but now I wouldn't have it down for anything."

"Don't trouble yourself," said Gladys.

"Sure, I'll put it down," said Migwan, making a motion to rise, but just then the second bugle rang out and she subsided.

Gladys got into bed and pulled the blankets over her head. It was the first time she had ever slept out of doors. She felt very small and lonesome and neglected. She had not wanted to come to this camp the least bit. Other summers she had always gone to Atlantic City or some other crowded, lively summer resort with her parents, where she had received considerable attention from young men, just like the older girls with whom she associated. Here, banished to the silent woods, she saw the summer stretch out endlessly before her, intolerably dull and uninteresting. She loved fluffy clothes and despised the bloomers and middies which the girls wore. She loved dainty table service and hated to cook. Up here she would be expected to help with the meals, and all there was to cook on was an open fire and a gasoline stove! What could her father have been thinking of to want her to join such a club! These girls were not in her own class; they went to public school, they were rough and horrid and threw each other into the water!

Gladys could not go to sleep. She tossed restlessly, thinking rebellious thoughts, and shuddering at the night noises in the woods. The lapping of the water on the rocks below had a lonesome sound. She had not yet learned to hear its soft crooning lullaby. The wind rustled in the pine trees with a ghostly, mysterious sound. From somewhere in the woods came a mournful cry that sent the chills up and down her spine. It was only a whippoorwill, but Gladys did not know a whippoorwill from a bluebird. Then the frogs in a distant pool began their concert. "Blub!" "Blub!" "Knee-deep!" "Better go round!" "Knee-deep!" "Better go round!" "Skeel!" "Skeek!" "Skeel!" "Skeek!" "Blub!" "Glub!" "Chralk!" Gladys's eyes started out of her head at the unearthly noises. Her nerves were just about on edge from their incessant piping when suddenly a long, eerie laugh rang out over the water.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

She screamed aloud and sat up in bed. "What's the matter?" said Migwan, waking up.

"What was it? Oh, what was it?" asked Gladys in a voice cold with terror.

"What was what?" said Migwan.

Just then the sound rang out again. "That!" said Gladys.

"Why, that's nothing but a loon," answered Migwan. "Isn't it lovely!" And she fell asleep again.

But slumber would not come to Gladys. The bed sagged in the middle and she could not get herself adjusted to it. She was finally in the act of dozing off when the bed collapsed with a jarring crash. Instantly the whole camp was awake. Migwan jumped up and lit the lantern, and Nyoda came running over from Alpha to see what was the matter. There was much laughter over the mishap, but unfortunately Gladys got the idea that Sahwah, who had giggled uncontrollably from the start, was responsible for the bed going down. "You made it fall down," she said to her, and burst into tears. Sahwah stared at her open mouthed.

"I never touched it," she declared.

Nyoda hastened to smooth things over. "Nobody made your bed collapse, dear," she said, putting her arm around Gladys, "it's a trick camp beds have." Gladys went on crying, however, so Nyoda sat down on the edge of her bed and talked soothingly to her. She realized that Gladys felt strange in camp and was probably homesick in spite of the fact that the girls had received her with open arms. So to divert the girl's attention from herself she pointed out the constellations blazing in the sky and told some of their stories, and Gladys gradually relaxed and fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes again it was broad daylight and the sun was shining into the tent. She looked around at the others. Hinpoha was still asleep; Migwan was coaxing a chipmunk up on the bed with peanuts; Sahwah was noiselessly getting into her bathing suit. Seeing that Gladys was awake, both girls waved their arms in friendly greeting. Talking was not allowed before the first bugle. There was a soft scurry of little feet on the floor, and another chipmunk darted in and paused inquiringly beside Gladys's bed. Migwan tossed her some peanuts and Gladys held one out gingerly to the little creature. He hopped up boldly and took it from her fingers, stuffing it into his baggy cheek. Then his bright little eyes spied the rest of the peanuts on Gladys's bed, and quick as a wink he was up after them, his tail whisking right into her face. Gladys screamed and wriggled, and he fled for his life, pausing a short distance from the tent to scold about the peanuts he had left behind in his flight.

Just then the bugle blew, and with a whoop Sahwah leapt from bed, while Migwan rose and donned her bathing suit. "Coming in for a dip, Gladys?" she asked.

"Is the water cold?" asked Gladys.

"Well, yes," said Migwan honestly. "It usually is in the morning before the sun has shone very long on it." Gladys decided she would not take a dip. Hinpoha slumbered calmly on. Sahwah pulled the pillow from under her head with a quick jerk and plucked the blankets off. Hinpoha opened her eyes sleepily.

"Wake up, lazy bones," said Sahwah. "It's time to dip!"

"Have a heart," mumbled Hinpoha, opening her eyes a little farther, "the bugle hasn't blown yet!"

"Indeed it has, a whole minute ago! Hurry up or you'll miss the dip!" Sahwah prodded Hinpoha energetically. Hinpoha struggled into her bathing suit and sped down the path to the lake, hot in pursuit of Sahwah. Migwan had already gone down. A minute later the girls from the other tent ran out, calling a cheery good-morning to Gladys. A series of splashes and shrieks followed, which proclaimed the coldness of the water. Gladys lay cozily in bed, watching the chipmunks as they scampered across the floor of the tent. Presently another bugle sounded from somewhere and the girls returned, dripping and rosy, to hustle into middies and bloomers.

"Aren't you going to get up, Gladys?" asked Migwan. "That second bugle means 'get up,' you know."

"Does it?" said Gladys, and rose reluctantly. It seemed as if she had just gone to sleep. She was still combing her hair before the tiny mirror that hung on the tent pole swinging in the wind when the breakfast bugle blew. Migwan waited for her dutifully and escorted her to the "Mess Tent," where the other girls were already gathered around the table.

"We'll call it the 'Mess Tent' until we can find a prettier name for it," explained Migwan. "Sahwah thinks we should call it the 'Grand Gorge.' Have you anything to suggest?"

"No," replied Gladys, "I haven't."

Nyoda greeted Gladys cordially and asked how she slept, and the other girls sang her a Kindergarten Good Morning song, making funny little bows and bobs. Then they sang the Camp Fire Grace, "If We Have Earned the Right to Eat This Bread," and set to work making the fruit and pancakes and cocoa disappear like magic. Gladys ate nearly as much as the others, although she would have been very much surprised if you had told her so. The meal over, each girl carried her dishes and stacked them in a neat pile on the table in the tiny kitchen which formed a part of the small wooden shack which stood on the camp grounds, and dropped her cup into a pan of water. This made very light work for the Dishes Committee, which consisted of two different girls each week. The Dishes Committee took care of all three meals a day for the entire week, as this duty did not require much time, but there was a different Breakfast, Dinner and Supper Committee, each pair serving a whole week at their job. Up until Gladys's arrival there had been only seven in camp and Nyoda had been working alone, but now the division was equal. Gladys was assigned to the supper committee for the rest of the week with Migwan as a partner, for Nyoda thought it would help her get acquainted faster to let her work with one of the girls.

As soon as the dishes were washed the girls gathered in the front part of the shack, where there was an old piano, and sang hymns and camp songs. "Let's pick out some hymns to learn by heart," suggested Nyoda; "think how lovely they'll sound, sung out on the lake in canoes." Nyoda's suggestion found favor with the girls, and they set immediately to work learning the "Crusaders' Hymn."

"Do you know," said Nyoda from her seat on the piano stool, after they had sung it through a couple of times, "I believe that the last verse of that song should be sung first. The climax seems be in the first verse, and the rest, beginning with the last, merely lead up to it. Try it that way once."

The girls sang it through in the new order and declared they liked the effect much better, so the change was adopted. Migwan and Nyoda sang a strong alto, and Sahwah a clear, though somewhat uncertain, high tenor, so the little band succeeded in making a considerable amount of harmony. A tiny song bird, perched on the limb of a tall pine tree just before the shack, blended his notes with theirs and poured out his enjoyment of the universe in a thrilling flood of song. The girls sang their hymn over and over again, just to hear him join in, until Nyoda, looking at her watch, exclaimed, "Ten minutes until tent inspection!"

The girls scattered to their tents, and began a hasty cleaning up. Gladys had never made a bed before, and had trouble getting hers straight and smooth, but Migwan took a hand and showed her how to spread the sheets evenly and tuck them in neatly. Her night gown she folded and tucked under the pillow. "One quarter of this swinging shelf belongs to you, Gladys, so you might as well put some of your stuff up here," she said when the bed was finished, "as well as part of the table and the washstand." She moved things around as she spoke, leaving spaces clear for Gladys's possessions. "We aren't supposed to have anything hanging over the edge of the shelf, or out of the compartment of the table," she explained as she moved about. "Nothing is to be left on the bed except one sweater or one folded up blanket, and not more than two pairs of shoes under the bed. Our towels and bathing suits are to be hung on the tent flies as inconspicuously as possible. We also clean up our dooryards and see that there is no waste paper about."

"What happens if everything isn't in applepie order?" asked Gladys, mentally remarking that such rules were an unnecessary nuisance.

"We get marked down in tent inspection, and if our things are left in very bad order we forfeit our swimming hour for that day. Besides, we are all working for the Camp Craft honor of doing the work in a tent for a week, and if the tent isn't properly cared for it doesn't count toward the honor. More than all that, the two tents are racing to see which one gets the highest average at the end of the summer, for Nyoda has offered a banner to the members of the winning family."

She had hardly finished her explanation when the bugle announced the imminent approach of Nyoda on her tour of inspection, and the three girls ran from the tent, pulling Gladys with them. "What's the matter?" panted Gladys. "What are we running away for?"

"We never stay in the tent while it's being inspected," explained Migwan. "Nyoda tells us our standing during Craft hour, and what the matter was, if there was anything, and the weekly averages are to be read at Council Fire."

The girls settled down to Craft work in the shack, for they had chosen that as their workroom, on account of the hinged shelves around the walls, which were so convenient to spread work out on. The front wall of the shack, facing the lake, was all windows, which could be lowered, making the room as cool and airy as could be desired.

The special work which the girls had just begun was the painting of their paddles with their symbols. Gladys, having neither paddle nor symbol, was at a loss what to do. "Here, take the symbol book," said Migwan, "and begin working on your symbol." Gladys took the book and began idly turning the pages. Symbolism was an entirely new thing to her, and she was unable to decide on any of the queerly shaped things in the little book.

"I can't find a thing that I like," she said to Nyoda when she joined the girls in the shack.

"Have you decided on a name?" asked Nyoda. Gladys shook her head. "Well, then," said Nyoda, "I would wait with the symbol until I had chosen a name. And I wouldn't be in too much of a hurry about it, either. Take time to look about you and make your name express something that you like to do better than anything else, or something that you earnestly aspire to do or be. Then choose your symbol in keeping with your name."

"But suppose there shouldn't be a symbol in the book that fitted the name I chose?" asked Gladys.

"Then we would be put to the painful necessity of finding a brand new one!" answered Nyoda with a mock tragic air.

Here the others girls flung themselves upon Nyoda and demanded to be told their standing in tent inspection. "Alpha, 97, Omega, 98," she replied.

The Omegas hugged each other with joy at having received a higher mark than the Alphas. "What was wrong with us?" chorused the disappointed Alphas.

"One bed had not been swept under, one pair of shoes were lying down instead of standing up, and the wash bowl contained a spy-glass," answered Nyoda.

Nakwisi blushed at the mention of the spy-glass. "I didn't mean to leave it there, really and truly I didn't, Nyoda. I was just looking over the lake when Chapa wanted me to help her move her bed and I laid it in the first convenient place and then forgot to remove it."

"No explanations!" called the girls. Nakwisi laughed and subsided.

"Where did we lose our two points, Nyoda?" demanded the Omegas.

"There was a pillow propped against the tent pole and one bed looked decidedly lumpy," said Nyoda.

"I knew you'd go off and leave that pillow there, Sahwah," exclaimed Hinpoha.

"I knew your shoes would show if you tried to hide them in the bed!" returned Sahwah.

"Murder will out," said Nyoda, laughing, "I was not going to mention any names!"



CHAPTER III.

INDEPENDENCE DAY.

"Girls!" exclaimed Nyoda one day at the dinner table, "to-morrow is the Fourth of July. Shall we have a celebration?"

Sahwah looked at Hinpoha and slowly lowered one eyelid. "Yes, yes," cried all the girls in chorus, "let's do!"

"Well, what shall it be?" continued Nyoda, "a flag raising and a bonfire and some canoe races?"

"Oh, a flag raising by all means," said Migwan, "they always have one in the Scout camps. My brother is a Scout and he thinks it's awful because we don't have more flag exercises."

"Where will we get the flag?" asked Sahwah.

"It's here already," answered Nyoda, "in the bottom of my trunk. I knew that sooner or later we would want it so I brought it along."

"Who will do the raising?" asked Hinpoha.

"Why, Nyoda, of course," said Migwan, "who else?"

"And I move," said Nyoda, "that Migwan write a poem suitable to the occasion and deliver same."

"Yes, yes," cried all the girls, "a poem from Migwan." Migwan demurred at first, but finally promised, just as she always did.

"Wait a minute," said Sahwah suddenly, "where are we going to get the pole to raise the flag on?" All the girls looked blank for a moment.

"We'll run it up on the diving tower," said Nyoda promptly. "We can find a small dry tree in the woods and strip the branches off and fasten it to the top of the tower and run the flag up on it. There, that's settled. Now, what kind of water sports shall we have?"

Sahwah and Hinpoha exchanged glances, and Sahwah wriggled in her chair. "Wouldn't you like a committee to arrange that?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound natural and disinterested.

"Why, yes, that would be a good idea," said Nyoda, "and I appoint you and Hinpoha as the committee to do the arranging. I am very glad you suggested that, for it leaves me free to go to the village this afternoon. Now, do we need any more committees?"

"There ought to be one on seating arrangements," said Sahwah.

"On what?" asked Nyoda.

"Seating arrangements," repeated Sahwah. "Where to place our guests."

"May I ask who our guests are going to be?" said Nyoda.

"I don't know yet, myself," said Sahwah calmly. "But we ought to have some. It would be sort of flat to have a celebration just for ourselves. We'll all have to be in it and there won't be any audience. How would you feel like giving a show for nobody's benefit? So I thought we'd do it this way.. We'd have a committee on seating arrangements, and they would have to furnish the audience as well as the seats. Isn't that a good idea?"

"It's an original one, anyway," said Nyoda, somewhat breathlessly. "However, I think you are quite right. If there is an audience to be had, by all means let us have one. But I give you fair warning, it may not be the easiest thing to pick up an audience in the Maine woods."

"There are other campers around the lake," replied Sahwah, "and there are the people in the village. We could bring them here in the boats."

"They might have plans of their own, though," said Nyoda, "so we mustn't count too much on having them come to visit us. By the way, Sahwah, whom would you suggest for a seating-arrangements committee?"

"Oh, you would be the best one for that, Nyoda," answered Sahwah.

Nyoda bowed, laughing. "I accept the position of Audience Furnisher," she said, formally. "Now, every man to his task! Gladys, would you like to come to the village with me this afternoon?"

Sahwah and Hinpoha also went to the village, but they waited until Nyoda was well out of sight, then they paddled across the lake with strong swift strokes that sent the canoe fairly flying through the water.

"I thought Nyoda would want some kind of a celebration," said Sahwah, "so it's a good thing we have our plans made, although we did want them to be a complete surprise." Instead of getting out at the regular landing they paddled around the village and up the mouth of a small creek, where they beached the canoe and crept stealthily toward the store. After peeking through the window and satisfying themselves that Nyoda was not within Sahwah entered, while Hinpoha kept watch in the doorway. "Did you get everything?" asked Hinpoha, as Sahwah emerged with her arms full of bundles.

Sahwah nodded. "But it took every yard of bunting they had." They hastened back to camp and preparations for the next day's celebration were soon under way.

When Nyoda returned at supper time she was immediately surrounded by an eager group clamoring to know who was going to be the audience. Nyoda shook her head sadly. "There ain't no such animal," she replied tragically. "We stopped everybody we met on the street in the village—we only met five people—and, invited them; we invited the storekeeper and the man who rents the boats; but none of them could come. Then we went around to the houses to see if we could find some women and girls, but with the same result. It seems that some local magnate is giving a barbecue out at his farm to-morrow and the whole town is invited."

"But the other campers," said Sahwah hopefully.

Again Nyoda shook her head. "We took the launch and ran in at every landing for several miles around. There aren't so many campers up here yet as you might think. A great many of the cottages were closed. The few people we did talk to had their plans already made. Don't look so disappointed, Sahwah. If we were out in the middle of the desert or shipwrecked on a lonely island there wouldn't be any possibility of an audience, and yet we would be having a celebration for our own benefit just the same."

"Of course we would," said Migwan stoutly, "and to tell the truth, it would never have occurred to me to ask any one else to our celebration to-morrow. I think it's lovely to have it just by ourselves."

"I tell you what we'll do," said Hinpoha with a burst of inspiration, "we'll take turns being the audience. The seating committee can usher us to our seats between our own performances and we can pretend that we don't know what is coming."

"You forget that I, for one, don't know what is coming," said Nyoda, "and will be a very appreciative spectator indeed. Behold me, ladies, at your service, the Audience!" And Nyoda swept them a low curtsey, whereupon they fell on her neck with one accord.

Sahwah woke with the dawn the next morning and craned her neck to look at the weather. To her great disappointment the lake was covered with a heavy mist and there was no sign of the sun. The woods looked dark and gloomy. "Rain!" she exclaimed tragically, and buried her head in the blankets. The clouds were still thick at breakfast time, although no actual rain had fallen.

The flag raising took place right after breakfast, with due ceremony. Up went the Stars and Stripes, without a pause, and just as it reached the top of the pole and yielded its folds to the breeze the sun broke through the clouds and bathed it in a golden glory. The girls cheered and burst into a lusty rendition of the "Star Spangled Banner," after which Migwan's patriotic poem was recited amid much applause.

Then began the water sports, which opened with canoe races. The four who were not in this took their seats on the shore, being placed by Nyoda with great formality, and passed Nakwisi's spy-glass from hand to hand. Hinpoha and Nakwisi, and Sahwah and Migwan were partners in the races. First they raced for distance, paddling around the nearest island and coming back to the dock. Hinpoha and Nakwisi came out ahead, because Migwan, who was paddling stem in her canoe, lost time steering around the island. Then came an obstacle race, in which the girls paddled up to the dock, disembarked, dragged the canoes across the dock and launched them again on the other side. Again Hinpoha and Nakwisi won.

Then came a race between the two crews with the paddlers standing on the gunwales, which tested the skill of the girls to the uttermost. With superhuman effort they kept their balance and came sweeping in neck and neck, the watchers on shore cheering lustily. "Go it, Hinpoha!" shouted Nyoda, and Hinpoha raised her head to look at her, lost her balance, and upset the canoe, leaving Sahwah and Migwan the victors.

The spectators applauded heartily, and sang cheers for the winners, when suddenly the applause was echoed from behind them. Nyoda wheeled swiftly around and faced two gentlemen standing at the foot of the path leading to the dock. As she turned they came forward, hats in hand. The elder man spoke: "I am Professor Bentley, of Harvard University, and this is Professor Wheeler." Nyoda graciously acknowledged the introductions. "We have been staying at the other end of the lake," resumed the stranger, "and intended to return home to-day, but missed the steamer. We were told that a steamer passed Wharton's Landing at noon, so we walked over for it. Can you tell us which is Wharton's Landing?"

"That is Wharton's Landing directly opposite," replied Nyoda, "but the steamer has already gone past. There is a different schedule on holidays. However, it passes again at six this evening. Won't you be our guests until then? We can take you across in the launch." The strangers accepted the invitation and Nyoda introduced the other girls.

Professor Wheeler looked long and hard at Hinpoha. He seemed unable to take his eyes from her hair.

"And now," said Professor Bentley, when they were all comfortably seated upon the rocks, "would you mind telling me what you are and what you were doing when we came up?"

"We are Camp Fire Girls," they cried in chorus, "and we're celebrating the Fourth of July!"

"So you're Camp Fire Girls, are you?" answered Professor Bentley. "That is a Species of the Female that I am greatly interested in. How fortunate that I should have come upon them in their native wilds! Is this where you hibernate?—excuse me, I mean sunburnate!" He wanted to ask a great many questions about the girls, but Professor Wheeler was anxious for the water sports to continue.

"The Audience!" exclaimed Sahwah in a rapturous aside to Hinpoha, "it fell right kerplunk off the knees of the gods!"

Sahwah, who was by far the best diver in camp, now performed a series of spectacular dives, which she had been practising early and late, including forward, backward, somersault, angel, sailor, box-to-springboard, and springboard from the top of the tower. Then she produced a hoop, which she made Hinpoha hold while she dove through it, forward and backward, from the high springboard. She ended her number with what she called the "Wohelo Dive," in which she jumped from the dock to the low springboard, landing in a sitting position, bounced up three times for Work, Health and Love, and then turned a somersault into the water.

"Whew!" whistled Professor Bentley, "what a diver! She's a regular Annette Kellerman!" This was repeated to Sahwah later, to her great gratification.

After the diving was over the girls did a stunt which called for a great deal of endurance. It was invented by Sahwah and called a "Submarine Race." Sahwah, Hinpoha and Nakwisi, the three girls who could swim under water, each tied a toy balloon around her neck, and jumping from the dock on signal, swam beneath the surface to see who could reach the shore without coming up for air. The balloons of course stayed in the air and indicated the progress of the swimmers. This stunt amused both the visitors highly, and they grew quite excited over which one was going to stay down the longest. "I bet on the red balloon," said Professor Bentley, who knew that Sahwah was attached to it.

"The green one for mine," answered Professor Wheeler, who was keeping his eye on Hinpoha.

"It was the weirdest thing," said Migwan afterward, "to see those balloons go darting and wobbling back and forth!"

"And the weirdest feeling when you were attached to them," said Sahwah, "I felt like the keel of a boat when the sails are full of wind."

The second part of the program was a series of tableaux showing events of American history. The first represented Washington Crossing the Delaware. The sponson, a flat-bottomed canoe with air tanks in the sides, came into view around the cliff propelled by one paddler in the stern. In the bottom sat two devoted patriots carrying hatchets. The great George stood in the bow, in defiance of all canoe laws, with one foot up on the bow point, his hand on his sword, his eyes on the distant shore. His hair had turned bright red and he had taken on considerable flesh since his friends had seen him last, but there was no mistaking the military attitude. In the water around the sponson floated a number of water wings, tied to the boat, to represent floating ice cakes. The audience applauded vigorously as the skiff drew near. At the psychological moment, when Nyoda had her camera focused for a snap a huge mosquito settled on George's extended calf. He uttered a sudden yell, brought his hand down on his leg and pitched headfirst into the water. The patriots rescued him and set him on the dock, and Professor Wheeler, who had sprung from his seat and looked as if he were going to the rescue himself, sat down again amid the general laughter.

"What next?" he murmured, chuckling extravagantly.

The next was an episode entitled "The Pirates of Tripoli." Chapa, Medmangi and Nakwisi came swaggering out on the dock dressed as pirates, with turbans and sashes and fearful knives stuck in their belts, singing, "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest!" Striking piratical attitudes on the end of the dock they sang the Pirate song from "Peter Pan," making savage gestures and pointing downward dramatically at the line,

"We're sure to meet below!"

Chorus over, the captain bold set his men to swabbing decks, etc., and ordered the watch up aloft on the tower to plant the flag with the skull and crossbones and keep the lookout. Boldly he paced up and down on top of the tower, sweeping the seas with his spy-glass. Suddenly he paused and uttered a shout. The pirates crowded to the edge of the dock. Looking in the direction he pointed they beheld two sailors approaching in a small open boat. Seeing the pirates, the sailors were overcome with terror and tried to avoid passing the dock, but the ruthless cut-throats flung out a rope and lassoed them. Pulling them up on the dock, they blindfolded them and tied their hands behind them. Then, in spite of pitiful shrieks for mercy, the pirate captain ordered the poor sailors up the ladder to the top of the tower and made them walk the plank off the high springboard, still blindfolded. It was so thrilling the audience squealed with excitement.

As Sahwah jumped she flung out her arms in a despairing gesture, and wobbled beautifully all the way down through the air. It was Migwan, though, who created the most merriment. The two sailors were dressed very correctly in white duck trousers, middies and sailor caps. The trousers were part of the outfit that Sahwah had purchased in the village the day before, and the pair that fell to Migwan were much too big for her. When it came her turn to walk the plank she remembered Sahwah's parting injunction to "hang on to 'em, whatever you do," and in a sudden panic lest she should fall out of them in her flight through the air, she grabbed them firmly by both sides of the belt, and jumped in that position. The watchers on the beach were convulsed and struggled for some minutes to regain their composure.

The last tableau brought tears to Nyoda's eyes—tears of joy and pride. Around the cliff came a gay craft, moving slowly and majestically through the water, but there was no sign of a paddle. As it drew nearer the watchers saw that it was a canoe, its sides covered with red, white and blue bunting. Before it swam Sahwah and Medmangi. Inside, on a flag-covered seat, sat Hinpoha, dressed as Columbia, with a crown on her head, her glorious hair rippling down to her waist and shining like copper in the sunlight. In one hand she carried a torch, in the other she held two white streamers. These streamers were fastened to Sahwah's and Medmangi's waists, who drew the canoe as they swam. The spectators drew a long breath and exclaimed with delight. Professor Wheeler sprang to his feet, camera in hand, and snapped the "Ship of State" at least a dozen times. "Glory! What a head of hair!" he muttered to himself.

The cortege approached the dock and those on shore thrilled with a fearful realism as the swimmers reared up their heads and blew jets of water out through their mouths and noses just like sea horses. As the boat passed the dock the watchers with one accord stood and sang "America," and kept on singing until it had vanished from sight around the next cliff.

"Great!" cried Professor Bentley, applauding until he was red in the face, "great!"

When the three girls came out on the beach after having changed their fancy costumes they were met with another round of applause. "That little pageant of yours," said Professor Bentley, "was about the neatest thing I have ever seen. Was it an original idea?"

The girls proudly replied that it was. "And not only original," added Nyoda, "but executed entirely without my help. The whole program was a surprise to me."

"You don't say so," said Professor Bentley. "Well, all I can say is you are a pretty clever lot of girls!"

Chapa had been busy for the last few minutes gathering driftwood and getting a fire started. The girls had decided to cook dinner down on the beach in order to show the visitors their skill in cooking in the most primitive way. A big kettle of clams was hung over a fire all its own, while another fire was kindled between two long logs, and the pots and pans set along on it in a row. Migwan tended the clams, Sahwah put on a kettle of potatoes and then began making toast, Nakwisi made cocoa, Medmangi fried bacon, and Hinpoha flew about concocting a delicious compound which was her own invention and with which no one dared to meddle. The two men watched with interest every move of the girls as they went about preparing dinner.

"Look at that!" said Professor Bentley to his friend. "That" happened to be Hinpoha, who was momentarily left alone with the fire. The cocoa kettle started to sag as the wood burned away and at the same time the mixture in the other kettle began to boil over. Bracing the cocoa kettle with one foot, she snatched the other kettle from the fire, and stood there on one foot holding the steaming pot. Professor Wheeler sprang to her assistance and propped up the cocoa kettle.

Dinner was the merriest meal imaginable, and "food just faded away," as Sahwah declared. Hinpoha won much praise for her concoction, which she called "Slumgullion." It was a sort of glorified tomato soup, made with a thick white sauce, containing chopped-up pimentoes and hard-boiled eggs, the mixture being served over toast. The clams of course were the main dainty, and when dipped in butter slid down with amazing rapidity. After dinner the girls threw themselves down in the sand in various attitudes of relaxation, while Professor Wheeler, his eyes straying again and again toward Hinpoha, told stories of camping in the Canadian Rockies.

When he had finished the girls rose and stretched themselves, and then began to clamor for "more celebration." Nyoda suggested a fire-building contest. Each girl was to have three minutes in which to collect material and get a fire started. No paper was allowed and only three matches. What a scramble there was to find small dry twigs! There was a smart breeze blowing, and most of the matches went out as soon as lighted, putting their owners out of the contest. Sahwah was wise and piled her twigs where a huge stump sheltered them from the wind; Hinpoha sat between hers and the wind. Even then it was difficult to get the twigs to burn. It seemed as if they were in league against the contestants and firmly refused to light.

"Two and a half minutes," called Nyoda warningly, her watch in her hand.

"Mine's burning," shouted Hinpoha, jumping up as the flames began to curl up from the twigs. Just then a gust of wind came up, and pouf! out went the fire.

"Time's up!" called Nyoda, and Sahwah rose from her knees, disclosing a neat little blaze. She had wisely sheltered her fire until the last second, giving it a chance to kindle well.

Now it was the custom of the Winnebagos to have a folk story told by one of their number right after supper, but as the visitors would have to leave early Nyoda asked if the girls wouldn't like to tell the folk story before supper. They agreed, as usual, to anything that would give pleasure to a guest. It was Migwan's turn to tell the story, so seating herself on a rock in the midst of the group, she related the story of Aliquipiso, the heroic Oneida maiden.

"Once upon a time the savage Mingoes made war upon the Oneidas, so the Oneidas were obliged to flee from their pleasant village and seek refuge in the depths of the forest. So well did they hide their traces that the Mingoes were not able to find their hiding place and they remained safe. Their food supply, however, began to be exhausted, for they were hemmed in by the Mingoes and could not break through the lines. They were facing destruction in two ways; either by slow starvation should they remain in hiding, or a cruel death at the hands of the Mingoes should they venture out. The chiefs and warriors of the Oneidas held a council, but none had a plan to offer which would effect their salvation. Then the maiden Aliquipiso stepped forward. With becoming modesty she addressed the chiefs and warriors, saying that the Great Manitou had sent her a dream in which he showed her how great boulders could be dashed on the heads of the Mingoes if they could be lured to a spot directly beneath the bluff on which the Oneidas were hiding. She went on to say that the Great Manitou had inspired her with the desire to be the means of luring the Mingoes to their destruction, and she was ready to start out on her mission.

"The Oneida braves hailed her as the saviour of her people and the Beloved of the Great Spirit, and hung strings of wampum around her neck. Bidding her people farewell, she left the hiding place and was found by the Mingoes wandering in the forest, apparently a lost maiden of the Oneida tribe. They took her to their camp and put her to torture trying to make her tell where her people were hidden. At last she broke down and promised that when night fell she would lead the Mingoes to the hiding place of the Oneidas.

"Under cover of the darkness she led them to the gully at the foot of the ravine. On each side of her was a Mingo warrior, ready to strike her dead at the first cry for help. When she reached the spot where she knew the Oneidas were waiting to hurl immense boulders down over the cliff she uttered a piercing scream—the signal agreed upon. The warrior next to her had just time to strike her dead with his club when the boulders came down, crushing him and all the Mingoes like worms beneath a giant's heel. Thus the Oneidas owed their deliverance to the bravery of a maiden."

"It must be fine to be a heroine," sighed Sahwah, when the applause was finished, "to save a person's life or something. I wish I had lived in the early days of the country. Nothing ever happens now."

Unsuspecting Sahwah! Little did she dream what was hidden under the wings of the Thunder Moon!

The guests rose to depart, after inspecting the tents and partaking of sandwiches and cocoa out on the Sunset Rock. Nyoda took them across the lake in the Sunbeam, the little launch that belonged to camp. Both gentlemen expressed their unbounded admiration for the physical prowess of the Winnebago girls and remarked on their splendid ability to pull together.

Professor Wheeler raved about Hinpoha's hair. "Let me come and paint her," he pleaded. "Sitting out on the rocks—with the sun on that hair—O, what a picture!"

Gently but firmly, Nyoda refused permission. "The girls have come up here for a summer all by themselves; to learn the joys of camping out and of doing things together. Such an interruption would break up the unity of their activities and lessen the influence of camp."

Professor Wheeler begged and entreated, but in vain; Nyoda stood her ground. The most she would promise to do was to send him Hinpoha's address at the close of camp so that he might take the matter up with her parents.

Nyoda returned home very thoughtful. Hinpoha's dawning beauty was causing her many thoughtful moments of late. Not that Hinpoha was in the least vain or self-conscious; on the contrary, she was the jolliest and most natural girl in the group, and the least fastidious. That same red hair which Professor Wheeler raved over was the bane of her existence, and she had more than once threatened to cut it off when the curls became hopelessly snarled. Her chief aim in life was to have as much fun as possible and to get as many others mixed up in it as she could. Hinpoha, haughty and proud because of her good looks, was a picture that the imagination balked at. Yet Nyoda could not help noticing that wherever the group went Hinpoha attracted by far the most attention from outsiders. All the way down from Cleveland on the train Nyoda had watched men who had scarcely taken their eyes from Hinpoha. The guardian sighed as she reflected on the problem, for she knew how difficult it would be for Hinpoha to live out the happy normal girl life which was her birthright.

When Nyoda reached camp Hinpoha and Sahwah were lying on their stomachs on the dock, rigging up a light-boat to be sent over the lake. It consisted of a flat board for a keel and voluminous sails dipped in turpentine. As Nyoda landed they set a match to the sails and shoved the boat out into the wind. It made a grand glare as it glided out over the lake and the girls cheered until the last spark had fallen hissing into the water.

"Wasn't it a grand success all the way through?" sighed Sahwah happily as they climbed the path to the tents at the sound of the first bugle. "First we thought it was going to rain and then the sun shone; and first we thought we weren't going to have any audience and then we did anyway, and the dinner didn't burn and everything was lovely!"

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!"



CHAPTER IV.

IN SEARCH OF ADVENTURE.

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 and Nakwisi, Hinpoha and Migwan, Gladys and Chapa, Medmangi and myself. You will leave camp in the order I have named you. Sahwah and Nakwisi will be the pathfinders." Sahwah seized Nakwisi 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 Maiden Keep 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 Hinpoha Two 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 Medmangi Read 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," said Migwan.

"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 at Hinpoha 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 hike With the girls of Wohelo!

Wohelo, Wohelo, Singing all the day, O what fun it is to hike Around 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.

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