With a whoop the girls made for the lake for their morning plunge. "Gladys!" said Nyoda, "what is the matter with your face?" On each cheek, as well as on her nose and forehead, there was a daub of red.

Sahwah stared, then she giggled. "I thought it was Migwan beside me," she explained. "Excuse me, Gladys, I didn't mean to decorate you." Gladys, however, evidently thought differently, for she was decidedly cool to Sahwah from then on.

Just before breakfast the girls assembled on the high cliff to sing the morning song. Their choice was Rousseau's beautiful hymn,

"When the mists have rolled in splendor From the beauty of the hills."

The mist curtains were rolling up from the lake in the morning sun, disclosing the lofty brow of Mount Washington in the distance, and the girls felt very near to God and Nature as they sang the inspired words.

Breakfast was cooked in the open and consisted of fruit, pancakes and cocoa. Hinpoha heroically passed up both the pancakes and the cocoa and contented herself with one piece of dry toast.

The hike proceeded in order just as on the previous day. Right after breakfast the ponchos were rolled and the pathfinders struck the trail through the woods. The first note left by them read: "10:30. First rest. 'Ware the pest!"

"Wonder what they meant by that?" said Hinpoha to Migwan. They soon found out. At the last blaze the path dipped into dense woods. From all sides rose a cloud of mosquitoes which settled on every exposed portion of their persons and stung viciously. "Ooo, wow!" they cried, breaking into a run and brushing the mosquitoes off with branches. Before they entered the next woods they stripped the bark off a fallen birch log and made leggings of it, tying them on with their handkerchiefs.

Migwan made up a song as they went along and taught it to Hinpoha. The tune was "Solomon Levi:"

"Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red, Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led, We follow the blazes through the wood like hounds upon the hunt, We keep our feet upon the path and our faces to the front!

Oh, Winnebagos! 'Bagos, tra la la la, Oh, Winnebagos! 'Bagos, tra la la la la la la, Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red, Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led!"

"I suppose you'll be a great poet when you grow up," said Hinpoha, stooping to pick a cluster of ripe strawberries.

Migwan sighed. "No, I'll never be a great poet," she answered, "but I may be able to write stories in time, if I learn enough about composition."

"What college are you going to?" asked Hinpoha.

"I'm not going at all," said Migwan seriously. "You know, since father died we have had to live very carefully, and high school is all mother can do for me. I have to go to work as soon as I graduate."

"It's too bad," sympathized Hinpoha. "You ought to go to college more than any of us. Here am I, with no more brains than a rabbit, going to Smith. It isn't fair. Can't you work your way through and go anyhow?"

Migwan shook her head. "You see, we will need the money I earn to send Betty and Tom to high school."

Thus talking earnestly they followed the blazes until they came to a place where the path divided around a very dense piece of woods. "You take one path, and I'll take the other," said Migwan, "and we'll see who comes out first." They separated and Migwan plunged into the darker of the two paths. It was hard breaking through. Small scrub pines closed over the path, their branches intertwined, so that more than once she had to use her hatchet. Roots and vines tangled her feet and made her stumble. Then she wedged her foot in between two stumps and could not get it out. She pulled and twisted and finally grasped hold of the stem of a small tree and braced herself firmly while she endeavored to free herself. With a sudden jerk her foot came free, and at the same instant the tree came up by the roots, the ground caved in beneath it and Migwan began to fall. She now discovered what she had not noticed before, that the path was on the edge of a very deep ravine which was hidden by the thick bushes. Straight down she rolled for about fifty feet, vainly trying to stop herself by grasping the small bushes. Deep down in the gully she came to a stop not two feet away from a small stream.

"I'm not dead, anyhow," was her first thought as she scrambled to her feet. A red-hot stab of agony went through her left knee and she sank down again, white and faint. "Dislocated," she said to herself after inspecting the injured member. "Let's see if I can put it back." Migwan had had First-Aid work and had learned to set dislocations, so she slipped the joint back into place before it could get a chance to swell, and bound it fast with a strip of the bandage the girls always carried with them. At that the pain made her sick to her stomach and she lay back, her head reeling. When she could see clearly again she sat up and looked around. It was nearly dark, as the thick pines shut out the declining rays of the sun. She called aloud till the echoes rang, but there was no answering call. The gravity of the situation came home to her, but Migwan was not one to whimper. She had nothing with her to eat, but there was clear water at hand and she drank and bathed her scratched face and hands. Then she lay still and thought things out.

"They'll surely find me sometime," she reflected, "for Hinpoha knows which path I took. The cave-in will tell the tale. There's nothing in the woods to hurt me, either man or beast. My knee is back in joint and will begin to heal while I stay here. Things might have been worse." Beside her lay a dry pine tree and she chopped it up and built a fire. For a long time she lay looking up at the great pines above her, lost in romantic fancies, her beautiful, expressive eyes shining in the firelight. By and by she slept, her head pillowed on her sweater.

She was aroused by the squalling of the jays in the pine trees. Sunlight was filtering down through the branches. She felt chilly from her sleep on the ground, although the trees had kept the dew from her. Sitting up, she exercised her arms to get up the circulation. Then, leaning on a heavy stick and hobbling on one foot, she began to look about her. Not far from where she had fallen there was an opening in the undergrowth and through this Migwan could see another path about six feet lower down the slope.

"I wonder if they would come this way," thought Migwan. "I had better put a blaze in the road so they can find me." She was casting about for something that would attract the attention of the searchers when she heard footsteps coming down the path. "They're coming," she thought, and was just ready to fall on Hinpoha's neck, when out of the woods came two men, one of them carrying a little boy. A few paces from where Migwan stood, hidden by a large tree trunk, they came to a halt, and the one man, pulling out a purse, began to count money. The little boy was dressed in a white sailor suit and hat, and his hair under the hat brim was yellow and curly. A beam of sunlight fell directly on him, making such a pretty picture that Migwan could not help snap-shotting him. Her camera still hung around her neck in its case, having luckily escaped injury by her fall. Then she stepped out and called to the men. Both started violently. Migwan hastened to explain her plight.

"Sorry we can't carry you along," said the man with the purse, "but we have to catch the boat at the lake and that would make us miss it."

"Can't you tell someone where I am?" asked Migwan.

"Why, yes, yes," answered the man, pulling out his watch. "We'll send some one for you." They disappeared down the path at a quick pace, and Migwan sat down by the opening and waited.

Hinpoha, following the path taken by the leaders, was tripping blithely along, not looking where she was going, with the result that she ran into a pine branch which caught her long hair, and in freeing herself broke the chain of her locket, which slipped to the ground and hid among the leaves. Hinpoha got down on her knees and hunted for it. The minutes passed, but still she did not find it. She did not worry about Migwan because she knew she would wait where the paths met. Chapa and Gladys caught up and helped her search, and finally they found it. Upon reaching the main path, however, they did not see Migwan. "Probably got tired waiting and went on by herself," said Hinpoha. "Serves me right." And she walked on with Gladys and Chapa.

Two hours later they reached camp, and Hinpoha began calling around for Migwan, but there was no sign of her. "Are you sure she isn't hiding about the camp to surprise us?" asked Hinpoha hopefully. Sahwah seized the bugle and blew the call which meant, "Come at once, no matter what you are doing," but there was no answer. Thoroughly frightened, they started back on the trail, meeting Nyoda and Medmangi just coming in. At the story of Migwan's disappearance Nyoda immediately planned a search. But first of all she insisted on the girls eating their supper. Then she reminded them that they had walked fifteen miles that day and most of them needed rest. Hinpoha stoutly maintained that she was as fresh as a May morning and declared she would walk all night to find Migwan. "What if she never comes back!" she wailed. Her knees gave way under her at the thought and she sank down at Nyoda's feet, her head on her arms.

"Of course she'll come back," said Nyoda confidently, but her heart was like water within her. These girls were all in her charge for the summer and she was responsible for their welfare. What had become of Migwan? The party that finally started out were Nyoda, Hinpoha, Sahwah and the man who had watched the camp while the girls were away, who drove his wagon along the roadway and let the girls ride in turn. They explored the woods back to where the two paths emerged from the thicket, calling and searching with lanterns. All to no purpose. They went over every inch of the path down which Migwan had disappeared. Now Migwan, in coming through, had strayed off the path, which was very hard to follow, and the place where she had gone over the edge was at least twenty feet from the true path. The searchers therefore did not find the evidence of her fall, and as the time when they stood there and called to her corresponded with the time when Migwan lay in a dead faint, she made no response, and they passed on.

The night wore on and the searchers grew more and more alarmed. Hinpoha dissolved in tears and declared she just couldn't live without Migwan. Nyoda tried to comfort her with all sorts of cheering possibilities, but her own heart was troubled and anxious. They retraced their route back to the place where they had camped the night before, but found nothing. Then, discouraged and panic-stricken, they began to retrace their steps to camp. Morning light brought a new disclosure. Not only had they lost Migwan somewhere in the great woods, but they themselves were completely off the trail of the day before. At one of the dim cross-roads they had made a misturn, and were now wandering around without the slightest notion of where they were going. "Well, I'll be jiggered," said the man with the wagon. "I thought I knew these here woods pretty well, but I'm blamed if I know where we are now. Everything looks turned around; I'd swear now, that that was the west over there, yet there is the sun a-risin' as big as life. I'm plumb addled!"

They advanced uncertainly, looking closely for the red-marked trees of the hike. "This road looks as if it went somewhere," said Hinpoha. They stuck to the road for a while but soon saw a sign board reading, "Cambridge, 7 miles." Cambridge was a town lying exactly in the opposite direction from Loon Lake. Bewildered, they turned back and Hinpoha left the main road and followed a narrow path that led into the woods. Wearily Nyoda walked after her. She was at her wits' end.

"It's no use, Hinpoha," she said sadly. "This path isn't any better than the road. We never went through this gully on the hike."

"Still, it might lead to one we know," answered Hinpoha, and they kept on. The path seemed endless, and was hard to walk in, for it was on the side of a hill.

"Let's turn back," pleaded Nyoda. "We're only wasting our strength without getting anywhere."

"Maybe we had better," answered Hinpoha in a discouraged tone. Just then the path turned sharply, and as they rounded the corner they came upon a figure sitting in the long grass. "Migwan!" cried Nyoda, and stood as if petrified. Hinpoha pointed her finger and tried to sing "O'ertaken," but burst into tears instead and fell on Migwan's neck. Explanations were soon made and Migwan was carried to the wagon to be petted and fussed over as if she had been lost for a year.

So, wearied but triumphant, the hunting party returned to camp with the trophy of the chase.



CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH A FILM TELLS A TALE.

It was the end of the swimming period and Nyoda was thoroughly exhausted. She had been giving Gladys her first swimming lesson. It had taken a week to coax the girl into the water at all and nearly another one to get her in over her knees. She showed a perfectly unreasoning terror of the water. In vain did Sahwah dive off the tower and come up safe and sound; in vain did Hinpoha demonstrate how impossible it was to sink if you relaxed. Gladys doubled up in a tense knot and grew sick with fear, regardless of Nyoda's supporting hand. Finally Nyoda took her farther up the beach, away from the other girls. "Now, Gladys," she said reassuringly, "do you believe, down deep in your heart, that I would let go of you and let you drown?"

"No," said Gladys.

"Then," said Nyoda, "you come along and let me hold you up while you float." Gladys swallowed hard and stiffened out like a crowbar; then as a wavelet washed over her face she clutched wildly at Nyoda and put her feet on solid bottom. And so she went on. With inexhaustible patience Nyoda tried again and again to get her to lie out flat on the water, but was compelled to admit at the end of the hour that she had made no progress whatever, for Gladys had not made the slightest effort to control either her muscles or her fears. Nyoda sympathized with her great fear of the water, for she realized that it was a very real thing; but she was disappointed that she had not tried to conquer it.

Her first impression of Gladys bad been borne out by later events. She was vain and silly and shallow; she lacked the good sportsmanship which made the rest of the Winnebagos such successful campers. Of team work she had no idea at all. She wanted to order her day to suit herself, and put on an injured air if one of the girls declined to help her make a stencil when it was time to clean up the tent for inspection. Her corner of the tent was never in order, and as a result the Omegas were getting low marks in inspection, much to their disgust, for the rivalry between the two tents was very keen. Gladys had officially joined the Winnebagos, having come into the group at the last Council Fire as Kamama the Butterfly. The very name she chose was an illustration of her character. She had no higher ambition than to be a society butterfly. Nyoda sighed, but she knew Gladys was not to blame, for she had been brought up in an artificial atmosphere of fashion and snobbery.

Nyoda saw at once that in order to get the most good out of camp Gladys must be on the same basis as the other girls, so she defined their relative positions clearly at the beginning. Gladys's father owned the camp, so they were in a measure her guests; therefore, Nyoda would not let her pay a share of the provisions, thus evening things up. Gladys had now been in camp nearly two weeks, but she had not entered heart and soul into the life as the others had. And it was not because they had left her out of things—every girl had gone out of her way to make her feel at home. The fault was clearly Gladys's own.

Nyoda was thinking about all these things when her reverie was interrupted by the sound of an automobile horn, and in a few moments a man came down the path from the road. He approached her and introduced himself as Mr. Bailey. He was a private detective, he said, and was trying to locate a child that had strayed or been kidnapped from a family on the other end of the lake. He was visiting all the camps to see if any one had seen the child. Nyoda shook her head. "We haven't seen any child around here," she said. "Was it a girl or a boy?"

"A boy," answered Mr. Bailey, "three years old; at the time of his disappearance he wore a white sailor suit and hat."

"When did he disappear?" asked Nyoda.

"Last Thursday night."

"We were just coming home from a hiking trip then and had lost one of our own girls and weren't paying much attention to anything else," said Nyoda, "but I'll ask the girls who were in camp while we were looking for Migwan." She blew the bugle and called the girls together and when they had come she introduced Mr. Bailey and asked if they had seen anything of the little boy.

At the mention of a boy in a white sailor suit Migwan pricked up her ears. "Why, I saw him when I was lying in the woods waiting for the girls to come for me. There were two men with him, one carrying him. I spoke to them and asked them to send somebody after me. They said they were hurrying to catch the boat."

"What boat?" asked the detective.

"It must have been the Bluebird,—the Loon Lake boat—for they were going in the direction of Loon Lake."

"Can you describe the men?" asked Mr. Bailey. Migwan tilted back her head and squinted her eyes in an effort to bring back the picture. "One was tall and had a black mustache. He was the one who carried the boy. The other was shorter and smooth-faced," she said.

"Could you swear to that description?" asked the detective.

Migwan suddenly clapped her hands. "I can do better than that," she said. "I can show a picture of them. The little boy looked so cute I snapped them."

"You have this picture?" said the detective eagerly.

"The film isn't developed yet," answered Migwan.

"How soon can you have it developed?" asked Mr. Bailey.

"We'll do it right away," said Nyoda. "We have a dark room rigged up." Nyoda took every precaution to guard against spoiling the film, and Hinpoha, who was in the dark room with her, hardly dared breathe for fear of working some harm. What an exciting moment it was when the figures finally stood out plainly on the film! The girls crowded around the detective as he held the picture to the light. There were the two men and the little boy just as Migwan had described them.

"What will you take for this film?" asked the detective.

"Take for it!" said Migwan. "You're perfectly welcome to it. I'm only too glad to help if the picture will be of any benefit."

"Migwan's a heroine!" sighed Sahwah after the detective had departed. "I wish I had a chance to do something big and noble! The only time I can be heroic is in my sleep, and then I make myself ridiculous."

"Cheer up, Sahwah," said Hinpoha, "I can't even be heroic in my sleep. Come on, I'll beat you a game of tennis." And off went the two cronies, arm in arm.

Gladys came and sat beside Migwan, who was spending her convalescent days in a steamer chair on the porch of the shack, where she could watch the girls in the lake and be with them during Craft hour. Nyoda had summoned a doctor from the village who proclaimed Migwan's dislocation a slight one and her prompt setting of it a good thing, and promised that in a few weeks it would be as good as ever. Meanwhile, however, she had to keep off her feet, and the enforced rest bothered her more than the pain did at first. She read a good deal, however, and did much Craft work, and the days went by somehow.

"What are you doing?" asked Gladys.

"Making a woodblock," said Migwan.

"What's it for?"

"Why, you cut a design in the wood," explained Migwan, "and then use it to stamp things with, either scarfs or table covers or book-plates. This is for a book-plate."

"What's a book-plate?" asked Gladys.

"It's a thin sheet of paper stamped with a design bearing your name. You paste it in the front of your books. See my design? The tall pine trees on either side mean friendship; the rocks underneath signify that my friendships have a firm foundation. The letters underneath read, 'Migwan, Her Book.' You have to carve the letters backward so they will print forward. The feather design around the letters is made from my symbol, which is the Quill Pen."

Gladys sat watching Migwan's busy knife cutting out the design. "Why don't you bring your Craft work and keep me company?" asked Migwan presently. "I hate Craft work," said Gladys fretfully, "but I suppose I might as well work on my ceremonial gown." She brought the gown and sat down beside Migwan. "Do you think these beads would be pretty hanging down this way?" she asked, pinning several strings of gay-colored beads to the leather collar.

"You aren't going to put those beads on your dress, are you?" asked Migwan in surprise.

"Why not?" said Gladys, "you've got beads hanging all over yours."

"But they're all honor beads," explained Migwan, "and stand for something."

"But I have no honor beads," said Gladys.

"Then you must win some. We all went with our dresses undecorated until we had won honors."

"I don't care," said Gladys, "I'm going to decorate mine. I won't be the only plain one. Miss Kent," she called, as their guardian passed by with an armful of firewood, "I may put these beads on my ceremonial costume, mayn't I?"

Nyoda dumped her burden on the ground and came over to the girls. "Of course you may if you want to," she said genially. "It's your dress. But do you want to? What does the ceremonial dress mean to you? Is it only a sort of masquerade costume to be decorated up just anyhow to make it look fantastic, or is it a record of achievements, written in a language that only Camp Fire Girls understand? Just think what it means to sit in a circle of girls and be able to tell by their costumes what kind of things they have done! We'll pretend that a Guardian from another group has come to look on at our ceremonial. The first one she happens to see is myself. She looks at my costume, sees the Guardian's symbol on the back and the border of small symbols around the bottom. She counts them; there are seven. She says to herself, 'She is the Guardian and there are seven girls in her group.' She then sees Migwan's costume with the four Wakan honors for Written Thought. She knows that Migwan has literary ability and that her symbol is the Quill Pen, because there is a quill sewn to the front of her dress and feathers are never used for decoration except in case of a personal symbol. She knows that Migwan had to work hard for her Wakan honors because above the first one there are two Shuta buttons and a Keda, showing that her first efforts won only third and second class honors, but she persevered until she reached the first class. She knows Sahwah can swim well because she has a fish on the side seam of her gown, which is the place for local or national honors. She knows Chapa must be very dexterous in Handcraft, for she has a great many green beads on her thong. And then she sees you—with a number of gaudy and meaningless beads sewn around your collar! Just what would be her estimate of you? Whereas, if you had no decoration whatever on your gown she would know at once that you had lately joined the group and had not yet won honors."

The beads gradually slipped from Gladys's hands. "I guess I won't put them on, anyhow," she said, not without some regret.

"However," said Nyoda, "there is no need of your costume being utterly bare of ornamentation. I can suggest several things which you have a perfect right to wear on your dress."

"What are they?" asked Gladys, looking interested.

"The first thing to do," said Nyoda, "is to get your symbol put in a conspicuous place. You have designed your collar with the long bands dropping from the shoulders. Now, I would apply your butterfly symbol to each band about six inches from the bottom, and then cut the leather below the symbol into fringe. I would paint the butterflies red, yellow and blue, which are the colors that represent Work, Health and Love. You could also produce the colors by sewing beads over the design. So much for your symbol. Now in the middle of the hem in the front of your dress you may put the Winnebago symbol—the sign of your tribe. You will find it on the banner before the tents and over the fireplace in the shack, as well as on all the girls' costumes. It is the Indian sign Aki-yu-hapi and means 'Carrying Together.' It is the secret of the wonderful team work of the Winnebagos. Develop this in wood brown and green. When you put the fringe on the bottom, instead of using a straight piece, leave the top edge in uneven peaks to represent mountains and outline them with blue beads for the sky above them. This will indicate that you love nature. There you have the costume with the thongs and fringes all ready to receive the honor beads, and there are some honors you should be able to win very soon. You will receive a Handcraft honor for making the costume, and a Campcraft bead for making the headband. You have walked forty miles in ten days—twenty-seven on the hike and the rest going to and from the village. You have done enough camp cooking to win a bead. You will receive these beads next Monday night. If you are sharp you can have enough to get your Woodgatherer's ring. Ask Nakwisi to tell you star lore; also get her to take you into the woods and help you identify trees. You can get enough beads very soon to take away your reproach of being undecorated."

While Nyoda was instructing Gladys in the mysteries of symbolic decoration, Sahwah and Hinpoha, finishing their tennis game, strolled into the woods beyond the court, looking for berries. "Let's make a leaf cup and fill it for Migwan," said thoughtful Hinpoha.

"Poor Migwan," said Sahwah, "she certainly is having a time with that knee. I don't see how she can be so patient. I'd die if I had to sit in one place all day. She's a dead game sport, though, and never complains. She does bushels of Craft work, and studies. I'm proud to be in the same group with her."

"All our girls are good sports," said Hinpoha.

"All but one."

"Which one?"

"You know."

"You mean Gladys?"

"Yes."

"She isn't a good sport, now," said Hinpoha, "but she may develop into one before the summer is over. Let's hope so." Then she added, "She surely has it in for you for some reason."

"I know it," said Sahwah, "and that's what gives me a pain. I never touched her bed the night it fell down, but I might as well have."

"But you did paint her face that night at Balsam Lake," said Hinpoha, with a giggle at the remembrance.

"Yes, but I thought it was Migwan, and anyhow I apologized."

"Well," said Hinpoha with a burst of altruism, "it's this way. Gladys is as shallow as a pie-tin and a big cry baby and all that, but if she hadn't been like that her father wouldn't have wanted her to be a Camp Fire Girl and we never would have come to this camp. It's an ill wind, you know. Anyway, she's a Winnebago now, and we have to make something out of her."

"You're so good-natured, 'Poha," said Sahwah. "I wish I could like everybody the way you do."

Hinpoha opened her mouth to reply, but instead uttered a prolonged "Ow-oo-oo-oo!" They were sitting on a log when the above conversation took place, and Hinpoha had poked her hand into the hollow end. Now she drew it out hastily and began to dance around, shaking her hand violently.

"Oh, what is it?" cried Sahwah.

"Bees!" shrieked Hinpoha. "Run for your life!"

An angry buzz sounded from the log and the bees began crawling out at the end. Hinpoha fled through the woods with Sahwah close at her heels. By the time they reached camp Hinpoha's hand was swelled all out of shape. It was all she could do to repress a cry of pain. Nyoda rose quickly when she took in the situation.

"Get some moist clay at once," she commanded. "There is some in the woods behind the shack."

Sahwah sped after the clay and returned with a large lump. "Now you make mud pies until the inflammation is drawn out of your hand," said Nyoda.

Hinpoha dutifully sat down beside Migwan and played in the clay. After she had rolled it around in her hand awhile it became a beautiful consistency for modeling, so she began making statuettes of the different girls. She had a great deal of aptness in modeling and managed to make her figures resemble somewhat the girls they were supposed to represent. She became so absorbed in her new occupation that she forgot the burning pain in her hand, and gradually the swelling went down.

Sahwah came along to see how she was feeling and exclaimed in delight at the statuettes. Hinpoha held up her hand warningly, for Migwan was asleep. Sahwah promptly fell to making hand signs of admiration. Hinpoha laughed at her antics, and falling into her mood, arrayed her figures in a semicircle on the ground, and sitting cross-legged behind them, made a gesture to intimate that they were for sale. Sahwah sat down and signalled that she had come to buy. She indicated several that she would like to have and Hinpoha held up fingers for the price. Nyoda came along and watched them with keen amusement; Gladys looked on uncomprehendingly. Sahwah purchased the Winnebagos in effigy, paying for them with pebbles, and making hand signs to the effect that she considered them a bargain at the price. Finally there was only one left. This was Gladys. Sahwah refused to purchase. Hinpoha lowered her price step by step, but Sahwah waved her away. The other girls, crowding around to see the fun, caught on and giggled.

"What's the joke?" asked Gladys. Nobody answered. Finding the eyes of several girls fixed on her, Gladys flushed. "It's something about me," she cried passionately. "I know it's something about me. You know I can't understand your old signs and motions and you can talk about me all you want. I hate you!" she cried, bursting into tears. "I'm going home to-morrow!"

Sahwah sprang to her feet, the realization of what she had done knocking her speechless. One look at Nyoda's pained and surprised face upset her completely and she rushed off to the woods by herself. With rare tact Nyoda smoothed over the difficult situation confronting her. It was no use to pass the thing over as a misunderstanding on Gladys's part, for Sahwah's flight condemned her. Putting her arm around Gladys, she led her down to the dock and into the launch. She set the engine going at full speed, sending the small craft through the water like a torpedo, the spray dashing over the bow and drenching them both. The excitement of this mad flight through the water made Gladys forget her hurt feelings. She watched Nyoda, fascinated. Nyoda was of a decided athletic build, tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and dark eyes, and high color. She was the picture of health and joyousness as she stood at the wheel of the launch, her hair streaming out in the wind, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Gladys had a real admiration for Nyoda, which was developing into a "crush," and liked to be alone with her. Nyoda could not help seeing this, and with her deep insight into girl nature knew that the solution of the problem which had worried her so at first was in her hands.

By and by she slackened the speed of the boat, and calling Gladys up into the bow with her, she showed her how to steer, and gave the wheel into her hands. She made no mention of the occurrence of the afternoon, not being clear in her mind just how to begin. Gladys finally relieved her of the task by asking: "What was it Sahwah was saying about me this afternoon when she was talking with her hands?"

Nyoda eyed her calmly. "She wasn't saying anything about you at all. She and Hinpoha were playing a game, a very clever and original game, by the way, having an auction sale in sign language. Sahwah bought all the figures but one, and then, wishing a diversion, refused the last one. It just happened to be the one representing you."

"I see," cried Gladys, breaking into Nyoda's explanation, "she wouldn't buy me."

Nyoda felt weak inside and tingled with a desire to shake Sahwah, but she never changed countenance. "I don't believe that ever occurred to her," she said loyally. "You are so quick to jump at conclusions, Gladys. Just because you couldn't understand what they were doing you thought it must be something unpleasant about you. Your outburst at that time frightened Sahwah so she probably thought she had done something dreadful. Now Sahwah feels badly and so do all the girls. You don't want her to go on feeling that way, do you?"

Gladys said nothing. Nyoda slipped her arm around her and smiled down at her. "You know that the girls are not trying to make it unpleasant for you, don't you, now?"

Gladys smiled faintly. It was impossible to withstand Nyoda's pretty pleading. Nyoda, watching her face, saw that she had gained her point. "And you'll like Sahwah and let her like you, won't you?" she said, hugging Gladys to her.

Sahwah was nowhere to be found when Nyoda returned to camp. Neither did she appear when the supper bugle blew. Hinpoha drooped visibly without her side partner, but Nyoda refused her permission to go out and look for Sahwah. When it began to grow dark Nyoda took her lantern and went into the woods by herself. She soon found Sahwah crouching on the ground at the foot of a tree, her face buried in her hands. "Sahwah, dear, look up," said Nyoda gently, setting her lantern on the ground and seating herself beside Sahwah. Sahwah uncovered one eye. "Oh, Nyoda," she exclaimed tragically, "what will I do? I never dare show my face in camp again. What ever possessed me this afternoon, and what must you think of me?"

Nyoda could not help smiling at the depth of Sahwah's self-abasement. "Cheer up, sister," she said kindly, "it's not as bad as all that. You were thoughtless, that was all, for I will not believe that you were slighting Gladys intentionally."

"That's it," cried Sahwah eagerly. "I never stopped to think what I was doing, and I never dreamed that she would catch on."

Nyoda nodded sympathetically. "I know just how it is," she said. "We never mean to do unkind things, and yet we do them right along, without thinking. The only remedy is to get a habit of thinking before we do anything."

"Not thinking is my besetting sin," said Sahwah, dolefully.

"Yes," said Nyoda frankly, "I believe it is. You do so many things impulsively that you never would have done on second thought. Take the time, for instance, that you jumped off the tower into the canoe and upset it. That was a very dangerous thing to do. You might have landed on top of one of those girls and hurt her badly, or been hurt yourself. Even granting that you were so sure of yourself that you could do it successfully, you set a bad example. Some of the other girls might be tempted to try it sometime with disastrous results."

"I never thought of it in that way," said Sahwah seriously. "I'm awfully sorry I hurt Gladys's feelings, and I'll apologize to her this very night."

"I don't believe an apology would help matters any," said Nyoda slowly. "There are some things you can't make right with an apology any more than you could mend Migwan's dislocated knee by saying you were sorry it got fallen on. It takes special treatment."

"What shall I do then?" asked Sahwah.

"Be especially nice to Gladys from now on. Offer to help her learn to swim, and go out with her in the sponson until she may go out in a canoe. Let her see by your actions that you want to be her friend, and then she won't suspect you of saying unkind things about her. Put yourself in her place. She feels just as strange among you strong, self-reliant, outdoor-loving girls as you would among her friends. You know a great deal that she does not, and she undoubtedly knows a great deal that you do not. She has been abroad several times, and spent a whole year in school in France, while her father was there on business. She paints china beautifully, sings well and does fancy dancing. In fact, she dances so well that various people have tried to persuade her father to allow her to take it up as a profession."

This last statement did not make such an impression on Sahwah as Nyoda expected it would, for Gladys had boasted of her dancing to the girls ever since she had come to camp, and had made fun of the simple folk dances the girls did among themselves. Sahwah, however, was still deeply ashamed of her performance of the afternoon and eager to atone for it and regain her standing in Nyoda's eyes, so she made up her mind that Gladys was a superior being whose superiority would be unveiled by constant effort on her part, and promised to devote her entire time to teaching her the delights of camping.

Then hand in hand she and Nyoda returned to the tents.



CHAPTER VI.

THE RAIN BIRD SHAKES HIS WINGS.

True to her promise, Sahwah began the very next morning "cultivating" Gladys. "Have you any middies you want washed?" she asked, as she dumped her own into the kettle over the fire.

"Every one I own is soiled," replied Gladys.

"Bring them along, then," said Sahwah, "and we'll do them together." Gladys brought her middies and Sahwah popped them into the boiling soapsuds, stirring them around with a stick. When they had boiled a few minutes she fished them out into a pail and carried them down to the lake for rinsing, Gladys walked along, but she did not offer to help carry the pail. Sahwah rinsed the soapy pieces in the clear water and was spreading them out on the rocks in the sun when she noticed that the Bluebird, which had been making its morning stop at Wharton's Landing, was headed their way instead of passing out through the gap. "Who can be coming to see us?" she said to Gladys. "The boat wouldn't stop unless it had a passenger, for our supplies came yesterday."

It was not a passenger, however, that was left on the Winnebago dock, but a wooden box from the express company. The girls crowded around to get a look at it. It was addressed to the "Winnebago Camp Fire Girls, Camp Winnebago, Loon Lake, Maine." Sahwah ran and got a hammer and soon had the box open.

"What is it?" cried the girls.

"It's a sail!" exclaimed Sahwah, looking at it closely, "the kind you put on canoes."

Attached to the lid of the box was a card which read:

"To the Winnebagos, to save them the trouble of harnessing themselves to their canoe to make it go. In remembrance of a delightful day spent in their camp.

"EMERSON BENTLEY, FRANK D. WHEELER."

"O joy!" exclaimed Sahwah, clapping her hands. "Maybe we won't have some fun now! Just wait until I get it adjusted." She spent most of the day hoisting that sail on one of the canoes, but finally had it finished, and went darting around on the lake like a white-winged bird, taking the other girls out with her in turn. "It's too bad you can't go out in a canoe," she said to Gladys with real regret, "I should love to have you go sailing with me." There was no help for it, however, and Gladys had to stay on shore.

"Won't you let me help you?" she asked Gladys at the next swimming period. "I'll hold you up if you'll try to float." But Gladys would not let any one touch her in the water except Nyoda. When Nyoda was directing the other girls Gladys stood out on the beach. "How am I going to help Gladys learn to swim if she won't let me?" thought Sahwah in despair.

"Don't go too far out on the lake," Nyoda warned Sahwah that afternoon, her eye on a bank of clouds that was rolling up in the west.

"I know there's a storm coming, and I'll be careful," promised Sahwah, mindful of her new resolution to think before she acted, "but the wind is so strong now it's great fun to be out sailing. I'll stay near shore."

The storm that had been threatening broke loose about supper time, and the girls ran to fasten down their tents. "Whew!" said Sahwah, struggling with a tent flap, "listen to the wind." The great pines were roaring deafeningly, and the lake, lashed into fury, was dashing high against the cliff. "Where are you going?" said Nyoda imperatively, as Hinpoha started down the path to the lake in her bathing suit. "To bring in the flag," answered Hinpoha. "It'll be torn to pieces in that gale." It was all she could do to stand upright on the dock. The rain was coming down in slanting sheets that closed round her like a fog. She untied the ropes that held the flag and tried to lower it. But it would not come. Something was wrong with the pulley. The flag was flapping in the wind and straining at the ropes like a spirited horse.

"No help for it," said Hinpoha to herself, "I'll have to go up on top." The tower swayed in the wind as she mounted the ladder, and the rain dashed in her face, blinding her. Great crashes of thunder sounded in her ears, and the lightning flashed all around her. Up on top it was worse yet. The wind whipped her long hair out and threatened to hurl her from the little platform, so she did not dare let go of the railing with one hand while she released the pulley with the other. "Glory," she whispered as she cautiously descended the ladder, "but the Thunder Bird has it in for us!"

She sped up the path with the precious flag held against her bosom, and found the girls gathered in the shack. Nyoda was kindling a fire in the big open fireplace, and the girls were seated in a circle before it. Then Nyoda, raising her voice above the patter of the raindrops on the roof, read aloud while the girls did Craft work by the light of lanterns. The evening wore away pleasantly, but the rain continued. At bed time they wrapped their ponchos around them and ran for the tents. The hollows between the rocks were veritable rivers, and in the inky darkness more than one girl stepped squarely into the flood.

"I'm soaked to the skin," panted Sahwah, running into the tent and quickly closing the flap behind her, "and I stepped into a puddle up to my knees."

"So am I," said Hinpoha, who was divesting herself of her clothes in the middle of the tent. "Did you ever see such a downpour?"

"Cheer up," said Migwan, who had gone to bed early in the evening with a headache and stayed in during the storm, "the tent doesn't leak, anyway. We'll be perfectly dry in here."

"It'll be all right if the tent doesn't blow over," said Sahwah. "Whew! Listen to that!" The girls held their breath as a particularly fierce blast hurled itself against the canvas sides of their shelter. Gladys, terror-stricken, sat on the bed and trembled. Sahwah hastened to reassure her. "It probably won't blow down," she said cheerfully; "these tents are made pretty strong, and the ropes on this one are all new, but there is always the possibility. Do you mind if I take your laundry bag down? It is pinned to the side of the tent and will lead the water through."

The girls slept very little that night, although the tent withstood the storm and remained standing. The rain still fell with unabated vigor at dawn. At about six o'clock Nyoda put her head into the tent and called Sahwah. Sahwah was alert instantly. Nyoda had on her bathing suit and cap. "What is it?" asked Sahwah.

"One of the canoes has broken away, and is floating off," Nyoda said in a low tone, so as not to disturb Gladys and Migwan, who were still sleeping. Hinpoha sat up and listened. "I am going after it in the launch," continued Nyoda, "and will need help. Put on your bathing suit and come."

"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," said Nyoda, 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,'" said Hinpoha.

"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'm willing to 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's my little 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."

"He was kidnapped, 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!"



CHAPTER VII.

SAHWAH THE SUNFISH.

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," answered Gladys.

"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 how Gladys 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?" asked Nyoda quietly, but there was a note in her voice that robbed Gladys 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,

"GLADYS

"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.