Slim tactfully agreed that the grass stains added to the artistic effect of the dress, and added that he thought tan and green were Katherine's special colors. It had just occurred to Slim that Katherine might be persuaded to make a pan of fudge while they waited for the others to return. He leaned back at a comfortable angle and waited for her to digest the compliment. The lake seemed enchanted today, an iridescent pool where fairies bathed. The water had a pale, silvery green tinge, with here and there a great bed of deepest purple encircling a center of bright blue—those contrasts of color which are the marvel of our northern lakes.

"Where do those purple places come from?" asked Katherine, with a rapturous sigh for the sheer loveliness of it. "There isn't a cloud in the sky to throw a shadow." To Katherine's eyes, accustomed to unending stretches of prairie, browning under a scorching sun, this blue, cool lake was like a dream of Eden.

"Maybe the color comes from below," said Slim, yawning as the light on the water made him sleepy again. "Wouldn't I like to go down underneath the water and lie there, though," he continued dreamily. "On a bed of nice soft sand that the fellows couldn't make collapse, and where you couldn't come along and shove burrs down my neck."

"It was an acorn," corrected Katherine serenely.

"Wouldn't I have a grand sleep, though," continued Slim, not heeding her interruption. "I'd stay there a week; maybe a month."

"Yes," said Katherine, "and come up all covered with moss and with binnacles hanging all over you."

Slim suddenly sat upright and shouted. "Binnacles!" he repeated. "That's good. You mean barnacles, don't you? Glory! Wouldn't I look great with binnacles hanging all over me!" And Slim leaned against the tree at his back and laughed until he was red in the face.

"Well, take whichever you please," said Katherine with dignity, and turned her back on his mirth.

Slim saw his dream of fudge fading and realized that he had made a misstep in laughing so loudly. "Don't get mad," he said pleadingly to the back of her head, "I won't tell any of the others what you said. But it was so funny I had to laugh," he said in self-defense.

Katherine kept her head turned the other way and remained deaf to his apologies. Slim sat back and looked sad. He hadn't meant to offend Katherine and he wanted her to make fudge. He cudgelled his fat brain for something to say, which would appease her. "Oh, I say——" he began when Katherine turned around so suddenly he almost jumped.

"What's that floating out there in the lake?" she said abruptly.

"Where?" asked Slim, sitting up.

"Out there." Katherine pointed her finger.

Slim looked in the direction she pointed. "I don't see anything."

"It seems to have gone under," said Katherine, searching the surface for the thing she had seen the moment before.

"There it is again," she said excitedly. "It just came up again.

"Slim!" she shrieked, springing to her feet and dragging him up with her. "It's—it's a person, and it looks like a woman. It's red. A woman in a red dress. She's drowning. She went down when she disappeared and now she's come up again. Hurry! The little launch! Come on! Hurry!"

She dragged Slim down the path so fast it was a miracle they both didn't go head over heels, untied the launch from the landing and sent it flying across the lake in the direction of the drowning woman. Katherine could run the launch as well as Uncle Teddy himself. Slim, panting and speechless, hung over the side trying to keep his eye on the red spot in the shimmery green water.

"She's got one arm thrown up for help," he cried above the thumping of the engine. Slim was so softhearted he could not bear to see a creature in distress, and the sight of that arm thrown up in a wild gesture filled him with a quivering horror. He could not bear to look at it and turned his eyes away.

Fairly leaping through the water, the launch came on the scene and Katherine stopped the engine. "Don't give up, we're coming," she shouted at a distance of fifteen feet.

Slim stood up and prepared to drag the woman over the side. Then he and Katherine began to stare hard. Then they looked at each other. Then they quietly folded up in the bottom of the launch and went into spasms of mirth.

"It's—it's——" began Slim, and then choked, while tears of laughter ran down his face.

"It's—it's——" began Katherine, and choked, likewise.

"It's a wooden lady!" they both shrieked together, with a final successful effort at breath.

"Oh, oh, doesn't she look real?" giggled Katherine. "With her arm sticking up like that!"

Slim remembered how that arm had nearly given him heart failure a minute ago and shook anew.

"She's an Indian lady," said Katherine, leaning over the side to inspect the floating damsel.

"She's a cigar store Indian," said Slim.

"But she certainly did look real," said Katherine, "bobbing around out here and going under the way she did. Look at her one foot sticking up, too. She certainly had me fooled."

"We ought to rescue her, anyway," said Slim gallantly. "It isn't right to let a lady drown under your eyes if she is only a wooden cigar store Indian."

In a moment they had her on board and were speeding back to Ellen's Isle. She lay out stiffly in the boat, her painted eyes open in a fixed stare. They carried her up the path and set her against a tree.

"She must be having a chill after being drowned," said Slim. "We ought to build a fire and set her beside it." Slim's mind was still on its first idea. It was only a step from fire to fudge.

Katherine took up the ridiculous play with alacrity. "You build the fire while I get the blankets," she ordered.

A few minutes later Mrs. Evans, who had been spending the afternoon on her bed with a sick headache, opened her eyes to see Katherine standing beside her with an excited, anxious face. "What is it?" she asked quickly.

"Oh, Mrs. Evans," said Katherine in an agitated voice, "we just saw a woman drowning in the lake and we brought her in in the launch and we've got blankets and a fire, and, oh! will you please come quickly?"

Mrs. Evans sprang to her feet and followed Katherine out of the tent at top speed. Sure enough, in the "kitchen" there was a big fire built, and beside it on the ground lay a figure rolled in blankets.

"I'll get some brandy," said Mrs. Evans, turning and running into the tent. She reappeared in a minute with a bottle from the First Aid chest and a spoon.

"Here, hold up her head," she commanded Katherine.

Katherine lifted up one end of the still figure and turned back the blanket.

Mrs. Evans, stooping with the spoonful of brandy in her hand, recoiled with a little scream and sat down heavily, spilling the brandy all over herself. Then Katherine introduced the rescued lady and Mrs. Evans laughed till she cried and declared that her headache had been completely scared out of her. She stood the figure upright and called the others to witness the lifelike attitude.

"With her hand stretched out like that, she looks just as though she was counting 'Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,'" she said.

"That's just what she does!" exclaimed Katherine. "I've been wondering all the while what that gesture reminded me of. Wouldn't it be great fun to name her Eeny-Meeny?"

The name seemed so admirably suited to the droll figure that they began calling her that forthwith.

"After such a strenuous experience I think Eeny-Meeny ought to be put to bed," remarked Slim artfully. He was trying to get the decks cleared for action with pan and spoon.

"Of course," replied Katherine. "How thoughtless of me not to offer to do it sooner! Come on, poor dear, and have a nice nap. You carry her feet, Slim, and I'll carry her head. Put her in on Hinpoha's bed for a gentle surprise party. Here, hold her head while I slip the pillow underneath."

Then she covered Eeny-Meeny carefully with the blanket so that only her outline showed and returned to the fire, which Slim was rapidly reducing to the proportions of a "kettle boiler."

"Don't you think," said Slim, as she came up, "that Eeny-Meeny would like some fudge when she wakes up? There's nothing like fudge to restore you after you've been drowned."

Katherine agreed with this idea also and soon had the ingredients bubbling in the kettle, while Slim glowed with satisfaction toward the world at large.

"Here come the folks!" cried Katherine half an hour later, when the fudge was cool and most of it inside of Slim. "We must run down and tell them the great news."

The boys and girls swarmed noisily out of the launch onto the beach, calling back and forth to one another. Slim and Katherine came hurriedly down the path with their fingers on their lips. "Sh-h!" said Katherine. "Don't make so much noise. Hello, Antha; hello, Anthony." She greeted them hurriedly and with a preoccupied air.

"What's up?" asked Gladys. "Is mother's headache much worse?"

"Sh-h!" said Katherine again.

"There's a lady here who's very sick," continued Katherine in a low, grave voice. "She was getting drowned in the lake and Slim and I brought her in in the launch and revived her, and now she's in our tent asleep."

A murmur of excitement rose up from the crowd, which Katherine stilled with uplifted hand.

"Oh, the poor thing!" said Gladys in a whisper. "How dreadful it must be! Will she be all right now, do you think?"

"She's out of danger," replied Katherine, "but she hasn't spoken yet. We worked for more than an hour over her."

"Oh, why did I have to miss it?" wailed Sahwah. "After all the drill we've had reviving drowned persons, to think that when a real chance came you should be the only ones on hand!"

"May we see her?" asked Gladys.

"You may take a peep at her if you will be very quiet," replied Katherine in the tones of a trained nurse.

With unnatural quiet they ascended the path to the tents, each resolved not to do anything to make a disturbance. The twins were carried along with them unceremoniously.

"Which tent is she in?" asked Gladys.

"Ours," replied Katherine. "I laid her on Hinpoha's bed, because I think it's the softest, and, anyhow, it's the only one that doesn't sag in the middle. You don't mind, do you, Hinpoha?"

"I mind?" asked Hinpoha reproachfully. "I'm only too glad to let her have it, the poor thing."

"Are you perfectly sure we won't disturb her by going in?" asked Gladys again, at the door of the tent. The flaps were down all around.

"I think the girls had better go in first," said Katherine. "The boys can wait awhile."

The boys fell back at this, and the girls passed into the tent as Katherine held the flap back. They were on tiptoe with excitement, and not a little embarrassed as they saw the long figure on the bed completely wrapped in blankets. A moment later the boys outside, standing around uncertainly, had their nerves shattered by a sudden loud scream of laughter which grew in volume until the tent shook. Then the girls came out, clinging to each other weakly, and doubled up on the ground.

"It's—it's——" giggled Hinpoha.

Sahwah clapped her hand over her mouth. "Let them look for themselves," she said. The boys made a rush for the tent.

In another minute there was a second great roar of laughter, and out came the Sandwiches, dragging Eeny-Meeny with them. Katherine told over and over again the story of the thrilling rescue of Eeny-Meeny and how she had received her name.

"What a peach of a mascot she'll make," said the Captain, when Eeny-Meeny's charms had all been inspected. "Sandhelo's too temperamental for the position."

"It's too bad we didn't have her for the Argonautic Expedition," said Migwan. "Wouldn't she have looked great fastened on the front of the war canoe for a figurehead? Why, we could set her up on that high bluff like Liberty lighting the world—you could nail a torch to that outstretched hand beautifully."

"And we can put her in a canoe filled with flowers and send her over the falls in the St. Pierre River like the Legend of Niagara," said Hinpoha.

"Or float her down that little woods on the opposite shore like Elaine," said Gladys.

"Elaine didn't go floating along with one arm stuck out like that," objected Sahwah.

"Well, we could cover her with a robe of white samite," said Hinpoha, "and she wouldn't look so much as if she were kicking."

"But, anyway, we can have more fun than a picnic with her," said Katherine.

After supper, with much ceremony and speechifying, Eeny-Meeny was raised up on a flat rock for a platform, with her back to a slender pine, where she stood facing the Council Rock, with one foot forward to preserve her balance and her right arm extended toward the councilors, looking for all the world as if she were separating the sheep from the goats, and counting "Eeny, meeny, miny, mo!"



CHAPTER VI

THE VOYAGEURS

When Katherine and the Captain became Chiefs the following Monday night, they announced that the Principal Diversion for that week would be a canoe trip up the river they had followed on foot in their search for the moose. This little river flowed into the lake at a point just opposite Ellen's Isle, running between high, frowning cliffs at its mouth.

"It's to be a sure enough 'exploraging' party," continued Katherine, "and we won't come back the same day." A cheer greeted her words.

"Won't the war canoe look fine sweeping up the river?" asked Migwan, seeing the picture in her mind's eye. "This will be a bigger Argonautic Expedition than the other."

"We won't be able to take this trip in the war canoe," spoke up Uncle Teddy. "From what I have seen of that little river it is too shallow in places to float a canoe. If we made the trip in the small canoes we could get out and carry them along the shore when we came to the shallow places, which we couldn't do with the war canoe very easily."

"Oh, I'm so glad we're going in the small canoes," said Sahwah, delighted. "It's lots more epic. Of course," she added hastily, "it's heavenly in the war canoe, all paddling together, but it isn't nearly so exciting. There one person does the steering and it's always Uncle Teddy, but in a small canoe you can do your own steering. And, besides," she continued in a heartfelt tone, "there's no chance of the war canoe's tipping, and there always is in a little one."

"I take it that upsetting a canoe is one of the chief joys in life for you," remarked Uncle Teddy. "No trip complete for you without an upset, eh? I must make a note of that, and pack all the valuable cargo in the other canoes. And I shall order the crew of your vessel to wear full dress uniform all the time, namely, your bathing suits."

The weather was fine and dry and, according to the signs as interpreted by Uncle Teddy, would remain so for the next few days. Orders were given to start immediately after breakfast the next morning. Ponchos had to be rolled for this trip, as they intended camping in the woods somewhere for one or, perhaps, two nights.

"Don't tell Antha we're going to sleep on the ground," Gladys warned the others diplomatically, "or she'll make a fuss before we start."

"We'll save that for a pleasant surprise," said Sahwah, with a grin over her shoulder.

No special time had been set for the return of the "exploraging" party. They were simply going to paddle up the river as far as they could go and then turn back.

The camp looked like an army preparing to move that Tuesday morning. Blankets were being stripped from beds and spread out on ponchos while their owners raced around hunting for the rest of their belongings which should go in.

"Where's my toothbrush?" demanded Gladys, having turned the tent upside down in her search for the missing article. "Katherine, if you've borrowed it to stir that villainous paint mixture you were daubing Eeny-Meeny with I'll——"

"What's that sticking out of the hole in the floor?" interrupted Katherine, pointing to the corner behind the bed.

"Why, that's it," said Gladys. "I remember now, I poked it into that hole last night."

"Whatever did you put it into that hole for?" asked Hinpoha curiously.

"Why, after I was in bed," answered Gladys, "I got to thinking about that hole and how spiders and things could come crawling through and walk right into my bed, and I had no peace of mind until I got up and stuffed it. And the only thing I could find to stuff it with was the handle of my toothbrush. Then I went to sleep in peace."

"As if all the spiders in the world couldn't walk in at the side of the tent," jeered Hinpoha.

"I know it," said Gladys, laughing shamefacedly, "but somehow the spiders that might be coming in at the sides didn't bother me a bit, while those that might be coming through the hole did."

"'Consistency, thou art a jewel,'" quoted Katherine, laughing.

"What are the boys doing?" asked Hinpoha, hearing a commotion outside.

The Captain was running toward the path, waving something over his head, and Slim was hot after him trying to get it away.

"Oh, it's the thermos bottle," called Sahwah, who had run out after the two. Ever since Slim had taken the thermos bottle full of hot chocolate with him the time they went on the snowshoe hike, he had never been allowed to forget it. Wherever Slim went that thermos bottle was taken along for his benefit. The Captain had even taken it along to a school party and gravely handed it to Slim when he was trying to appear especially dignified in the presence of a stately young lady. This time Slim caught the Captain and downed him at the head of the path and they struggled for its possession while the onlookers held their breath for fear they would both roll down the hill. Slim finally got it away from the Captain, and succeeded in hiding it where it could not be found in time to take along.

"What's going to be the order of procession?" asked Aunt Clara when they had finally got all their impedimenta down on the dock.

"You and Uncle Teddy will be in the first canoe," said Katherine. Since she and the Captain were the Chiefs they had the right to be commanders of the trip, but they willingly agreed to let Uncle Teddy have that responsibility, as he was able to engineer a canoe party and they were not.

"Let Katherine and the Captain go in the canoe with you," suggested Mr. Evans. "Then they can pretend they are commanding the expedition." Mr. and Mrs. Evans were not going on this trip.

"No," said Uncle Teddy, "I would rather have my first aids in the last boat. Then they can watch the whole line of canoes ahead of them and see that everything is all right."

So Katherine and the Captain had the place of honor at the tail of the line.

When they were nearly ready to start, Katherine, who had returned to the tents for something, came toiling down the hill, carrying in her arms the stiff figure of Eeny-Meeny. "We can't go without our mascot," she said. "Didn't the old Greeks and Romans carry their household gods with them, and didn't the Indians take their 'Medicine' along on all their journeys? As fourth assistant sub-head of this expedition I use my authority to declare that she shall be taken along. There is one canoe left and we can tie that behind mine and tow her. Mayn't we, Uncle Teddy?"

"You're the Chief this week," said Uncle Teddy, throwing up his hands in a helpless gesture. "You have the right to say whether she shall go or not. If you agree to tow her yourself I certainly have no objections to her going along. But remember, towing her will include carrying her overland when we come to the shallow places."

"Now lie still and be good," admonished Katherine, when Eeny-Meeny had been laid in the canoe, looking ridiculously undignified with her one arm and foot sticking up in the air.

"All ready there?" shouted Uncle Teddy from up front. "All right, cast off."

The line of canoes moved forward. Nakwisi was up in the first canoe with Uncle Teddy and Aunt Clara, while the Bottomless Pitt made the fourth passenger. After them came Hinpoha and Slim, paddling the second canoe with Antha and Dan as passengers; then Sahwah and the Monkey, paddling Migwan and Anthony; and lastly, Katherine and the Captain with Gladys and Peter Jenkins, and Eeny-Meeny traveling in state behind them.

The lake was smooth and paddling was easy. They sang as they bent to their paddles, as voyageurs of old. Soon they came to the mouth of the narrow river and ran in between the high banks. The current was strong and the paddling immediately became harder work.

"I bet Slim loses five pounds on this trip," called out the Captain. "See him perspire!"

"I'll bet he gains five," answered Katherine. "Working hard will give him such an appetite that he'll eat twice as much as he usually does. Too bad we didn't bring that thermos bottle; he will be wanting some nourishment very soon if he keeps up at that rate."

Slim heard the jokes at his expense being tossed back and forth over his head, but his exertions had rendered him too breathless to say a word of protest.

They passed the place where Uncle Teddy had called the moose with the birchbark trumpet on the occasion of the Calydonian Hunt. "Why don't you call another moose, Uncle Teddy?" asked Sahwah. "I should think there would be lots of them around."

"I don't think so," replied Uncle Teddy. "This is a bit too far south for them. That other moose probably didn't live in these woods; he was just traveling here; spending his vacation, probably. And, like a good many of his human brothers, he didn't take his wife along with him. There were no signs of another."

"He would have done better to stay at home with his wife," remarked Aunt Clara, "and then his head and his hide wouldn't be over in St. Pierre now, getting respectively mounted and tanned."

"Mercy, but this is hard pulling," groaned Katherine, as they went farther and farther up against the swift current. Those up in the forward boats thought the same thing and the paddles were not dipping with anywhere near the briskness and regularity with which they started out.

"This won't do!" shouted Katherine, making a trumpet of her hands. "We look like a row of lame ducks limping along. Get some style into your paddling. Let's sing and paddle in time to the music." Her voice cracked as usual and Gladys had to start the chorus:

"Pull long, pull strong, my bonny brave crew, The winds sweep over the waters blue, But blow they high, or blow they low, It's all the same to Wohelo!

"Yo ho, yo ho, It's all the same to Wohelo!"

It is astonishing how much better everything goes to music. The ragged paddling straightened out into steady, rhythmic dipping; drooping backs stiffened up, and aching arms regained their energy.

"That's the way!" shouted Katherine. "Now we have some style about us. This canoe seems much lighter than it did a few minutes ago. Hurrah for music!"

Just at this moment her alert senses told her that something was wrong. She twisted her head backward and then she saw that the sudden lightening of the canoe was not due to the beneficial effects of music. For the canoe, which they had been towing, was no longer fastened to them. Far behind them they saw it, traveling rapidly back to the lake with the swift current, carrying with it their mascot Eeny-Meeny, her arm visible above the sides of the canoe, stretched out to them in a beseeching gesture.

"Halt!" cried Katherine in a fearful voice, which broke in the middle of the word and leaped up fully two octaves.

"What's the matter?" shouted Uncle Teddy, looking back in alarm.

"We've lost Eeny-Meeny!" screeched Katherine.

A roar of laughter went up from all the canoes, as the occupants, carefully turning their heads so as not to disturb the balance of their frail barks, caught sight of that runaway canoe with the imploring arm visible over the side.

"I'll go after her!" said Katherine, bringing her canoe up alongside the bank and unceremoniously inviting Gladys and Peter to get out and lighten the boat. Then she and the Captain headed around into the current and started downstream paddling for dear life. It was so much easier going down than coming up that they fairly flew over the water, and caught up with Eeny-Meeny just before she reached the mouth of the river and went sailing out on the wide bosom of the lake. She was fastened on more firmly this time, and then began the long, hard paddle upstream again to overtake the others. Katherine would have been game to go on paddling all day rather than say Eeny-Meeny was a bother to tow, but she was very glad of the order given by Uncle Teddy, which gave her a chance to sit in the bottom of the canoe and do nothing but look at the scenery and keep an eye on Eeny-Meeny, lest she should give them the slip again.

The change of paddlers brought Anthony to the place of bow paddler in the third canoe. "Now you'll see some real paddling," was his gracious remark when he took the seat the Monkey had vacated in his favor.

"Look out you don't run over any snags," cautioned the Monkey. "There are some sharp stumps under the surface of the water and they're ugly customers."

"You don't need to tell me about them," replied Anthony pertly, "I guess I know how to paddle as well as you do. You don't always need to be handing me directions how to do things." And he started off with a series of jerky dips, which set the canoe swaying from side to side so that Migwan had an effort to keep it straight in the line of the others.

"Steady there, you third bow paddler," shouted Uncle Teddy, and Anthony subsided.

In the last canoe Katherine and Gladys were lustily shouting:

"Sing a song of paddling, A canoe full of Slim, Four and twenty haystacks Ain't as wide as him. When the boat goes over Won't there be a splash? All the fishes in the brook Will turn into hash!"

The other canoes took up the song and shouted it until Slim, throwing handfuls of water in every direction, sprinkled the singers into silence.

The country through which they were passing was for the most part thick woods. Sometimes there was a narrow meadow on each side of the river with the trees in the distance, sometimes there was a swamp, but more often they were passing between high bluffs crowned with forests. At times it was actually gloomy down there in the narrow passage, for the sun was behind the trees high above them; then again as the banks became low the hot sun shone unmercifully on their heads and made their eyes ache as it sparkled on the ripples.

Just as they had settled down to nice steady paddling and were making good progress upstream, Uncle Teddy called out that he was aground. The river bed seemed suddenly to rise up and strike the bottom of the canoes. A few feet back the water was swift and deep; here a sand bar stretched across their path and brought them to a stop.

"We'll have to get out and carry the canoes around," said Uncle Teddy, stepping over the side into the shallow water and pushing his canoe back where it would float.

Then they all had to step ashore and "paddle the canoes with their feet," as the Bottomless Pitt called it. Slim began carefully lifting the "grub" supplies out of his canoe and piling them on the ground.

"What are you doing that for?" asked Hinpoha.

"So they won't fall out when we carry it, of course," replied Slim.

"Just how were you planning to carry it?" asked Hinpoha curiously.

"Why, on our heads, to be sure," said Slim.

"Silly," said Hinpoha, "of course we won't carry them on our heads these few steps. We'll carry them right side up and leave all the supplies in."

"I thought you always had to carry a canoe on your head when you made a portage," said Slim sheepishly, amid the laughter of the rest. "They always do it that way in the pictures," he defended himself.

Katherine had double work, for in addition to her own canoe with its cargo, she had Eeny-Meeny to transport. But the Captain gallantly helped her and Eeny-Meeny made her overland journey with perfect ease.

"This is a case of 'turn about is fair play,'" said Gladys. "First your canoe carries you and then you carry the canoe."

On the other side of the sand bar the fleet was launched again and the interrupted paddling resumed. They were just going nicely when Uncle Teddy shouted, "Halt! We have to lighten the boats!"

"What for?" shrieked Katherine in alarmed amazement.

"Dinner time!" replied Uncle Teddy, and they all shouted with laughter again. Everybody had been quite frightened at his command to lighten the boats.

They went ashore and cooked dinner over a fire of driftwood and succeeded in lightening the boats considerably. After an hour's rest in the shade of a large tree they pushed forward again. Only twice during the afternoon did they see any signs of people. In both instances it was a single tent set up among the trees by hardy folks who preferred the wilderness to the fashionable resorts along the lake front. Near one of the tents stood a man and a boy and they waved a friendly greeting to the voyageurs, who raised their paddles all together in salute.

"Quite some style to that salute," said Katherine, and in her enthusiasm she brought her paddle down flat on the water with a mighty whack, showering those around her.

"Oh, I say," cried Gladys in protest, "please bottle up your rapture. I'm drenched already. I don't know what would happen if you ever got really enthusiastic about anything."

"I'm sorry," said Katherine apologetically, then with a lapse into her negro dialect, "Ah reahly couldn't help it. Ah got such protuberant spirits, Ah has! Ah 'clar to goodness——"

"What's the matter up there? Why don't you go on?" The clear voice of the Captain cut sharply through Katherine's nonsense.

"The third canoe has run on a snag," somebody called in answer.

"Just as I expected," said the Captain under his breath. "That lobster of an Anthony doesn't know enough to watch out for snags."

It was characteristic of the Winnebagos and the Sandwiches that there was no noise or confusion over the mishap. Everybody sat quiet while Uncle Teddy paddled alongside the impaled canoe and gave directions for releasing her. In a minute she was floating clear again, but with an eight-inch rip in the bottom, through which the water began to press rapidly. The snag was the broken stump of a tree, which had pierced the wood like a lance.

"Paddle over to shore," commanded Uncle Teddy, and the disabled vessel was soon lying up on the sandy bank with her crew standing around inspecting the damage. The others landed also and stood waiting for orders what to do next.

"Will we have to carry the canoe all the way back by land?" asked Slim anxiously, already fearing that he would have to help do the carrying and ready to put up a telling argument why Anthony should carry it all the way back alone, since he had been so clever as to run it on a snag.

"Mercy, no," said Uncle Teddy. "Here is where traveling in a canoe has the advantage over every other mode of travel. All you have to do is fill the rip with pine pitch, harden it, and she's as good as ever. Company disperse into the woods and seek pine pitch. Forward march!"

The pitch was procured and Uncle Teddy mixed it with grease. Then he laid a piece of canvas over the hole, smeared it with the pitch mixture and hardened it by searing with a torch. All that took time and the afternoon was gone before they had finished the mending.

"Company seek sleeping quarters!" commanded Uncle Teddy, after a consultation with Aunt Clara, who was of the opinion that this was as good a place as any to spend the night. The pines were close together and the ground was dry and soft with its thick carpet of needles. As the ground was alike on both sides of the river the boys and Uncle Teddy decided to cross and make their camp on the other side, a little farther up around a bend. The two camps were hidden from each other by the thick bushes that fringed both banks of the river, but were not too far away from each other to be handy in case of emergency.

Sleeping sites were soon picked out and the ponchos and blankets spread out on the ground. Of course, Antha made a fuss when she discovered the mode of sleeping and it took considerable coaxing to get her to consent. She was afraid of snakes; she was afraid of bugs; she was afraid of being carried away bodily. It was only when Katherine promised to be her sleeping partner and keep tight hold of her hand all night that she ceased her fussing.

Great was the laughter as Katherine's poncho was unrolled and her laundry bag, full of clothes waiting to be washed, tumbled out. In her haphazard and absent-minded packing she had taken it instead of her pillow. Katherine promptly tied the bag shut and declared it was as good as any pillow.

"You won't think so by the time the night is over," warned Hinpoha. "You've never slept on the ground before, but after this time you'll never forget your pillow again. That fact will be firmly fixed even in your forgetful mind."

While supper was cooking, Hinpoha and the Captain, who had gone exploring on foot on the pretext of gathering firewood, reported a small waterfall a short distance up the river. A waterfall on the premises was too valuable a stage "prop" not to be used, and Hinpoha was soon seized with an inspiration.

"Let's do our Legend of Niagara stunt here after supper," she proposed. "It'll be such fun to send Eeny-Meeny over the falls in the canoe. There isn't a particle of danger of dashing the boat to pieces on the rocks because there aren't any rocks below the falls, and even if Eeny-Meeny does fall out en route, we can fish her out again and drain her off. I think a waterproof heroine is the greatest thing that was ever invented!"

In the soft glow of the sunset the great tragedy took place. The spectators sat around on the river banks and cheered the canoe as it appeared above the falls, filled with pine branches on which reposed the lovely form of Eeny-Meeny, her brows crowned with wreaths and a flowering branch in her outstretched hand. With increasing swiftness the canoe approached the falls, poised on the brink a moment, then tilted forward and shot downward, turning over and over and spilling Eeny-Meeny and her piney bed into the river. As the spill occurred, Hinpoha and Gladys and Sahwah and Katherine, who were playing the parts of the bereaved companions of the sacrificed maiden, tore their hair and uttered blood-curdling shrieks of despair.

Just at that moment, with a suddenness which took their breath away, a man appeared on the river bank, coming apparently from the woods, and cried loudly, "Be calm! I will save her!" And, flinging his coat off, he sprang into the water before anyone could say Jack Robinson. He swam out to the form bobbing in the current, her arm thrown up as if for help; grasped that arm and then uttered a long, choking sputter, shoved Eeny-Meeny violently away from him and swam back to shore. They made valiant attempts not to laugh when he crawled out on the bank, dripping and disgusted.

From his appearance he was an Englishman. He was dressed in a sort of golfing suit, with short, baggy trousers and long, checked stockings. He had sandy whiskers which were dripping water in a stream. Such a ludicrous sight he was as he stood there, with his once natty suit all limp and clinging, that, one by one, the boys and girls dissolved into helpless giggles. Uncle Teddy managed to hold on to his composure long enough to explain how it happened that Eeny-Meeny went over the falls in such a spectacular manner. The Englishman stared at him open mouthed.

"Well, really!" he drawled at last in a voice which expressed doubts as to their sanity, and the few who had maintained straight faces so far lost control of themselves.

Uncle Teddy offered the would-be rescuer dry clothing, but he declined, saying he and a friend had pitched a tent only a quarter of a mile up the river and he would hasten back there. The two of them were on a walking trip, he explained, making frequent stops where there was fishing. While his friend had been cooking supper this evening he had strolled off by himself and had come through the woods just in time to see Eeny-Meeny go over the falls. In the failing light he had mistaken her for a real person.

"Oh, I say," he called back after he had started to take his departure, "if you should happen to run into my friend anywhere would you be so kind as not to mention this—er—mistake of mine? He is something of a joker and I am afraid he would repeat the story where it would cause me some embarrassment." And he solemnly withdrew, leaving them to indulge their mirth to their hearts' content.

"Poor old Eeny-Meeny," said Katherine, "she seems born to be rescued. She must bear a charmed life. It's a case of 'Sing Au Revoir but not Good-bye' when she goes to meet a tragic fate." She dried Eeny-Meeny off with bunches of grass and stood her up against a tree to guard their "boudoir" for the night.

"Hinpoha," said Gladys, drawing her aside when they were ready to retire, "what do you think of watching tonight? I've never done it and I'm crazy to try it once."

"You mean sit up all night?" asked Hinpoha.

"Yes," answered Gladys. "Go off a little way from the others and build a small fire and sit there in the still woods and watch. Nyoda always wanted me to do it some time, and I promised her I would if I got a chance."

"We'd better ask Aunt Clara about it first," said Hinpoha.

Aunt Clara said that after such a strenuous day's paddling, and with the prospect of another one before them it would be out of the question for them to sit up all night, but they might stay up until midnight if they chose and sleep several hours later in the morning.

Everyone else was too dead tired to want to sit up, so the two of them departed quietly into the woods where they could not hear the voices of the others and built a tiny fire. The proper way to keep watch in the woods is to do it all alone, but Hinpoha and Gladys compromised by agreeing not to say one word to each other all the while they sat there, but to think their own thoughts in absolute silence. If the city girl thinks there is not a sound to be heard in the woods at night she should keep the watch some time and listen. Beside the calls of the whippoorwill and the other night birds, there are a hundred little noises that seem to be voices talking to one another in some soft, mysterious language. There are little rustlings, little sighings, little scurryings and patterings among the dry leaves, drowsy chirpings and plaintive croakings. The old workaday world seems to have slipped out of existence and a fairy world to have taken its place. And the girl who truly loves nature and the wide outdoors will not be frightened at being alone in the woods at night. It is like laying her ear against the wide, warm heart of the night and hearing it beat.

And to sit by a lonely watch fire in the woods in the dead of night is to unlock the doors of romance. Strange fancies flitted through the minds of the two girls as they sat there, and thoughts came which would never have come in daylight. Somehow they felt in the calmness of the night the nearness of God and the presence of the Great Mystery. All the petty little daylight perplexities faded from reality; their souls became serene, while their hearts beat high with ambition and resolve. They had no desire to speak to each other; each was planning out her life on a nobler scale; each was steeped in peace profound.

Without warning they were roused from their reverie by a startled yell that shattered the silence and made the night hideous.

"What's the matter?" they both shrieked, starting to their feet in great fright.

The yell had come from the direction of the girls' sleeping place, and, taking to their heels, Gladys and Hinpoha sped through the woods to their friends. There they found everybody up and standing around with their blankets over their shoulders. A fire had been left burning in an open space and beside this, Aunt Clara, looking like an Indian squaw, was talking to a man who looked as if he might be a brother of the man who had jumped into the river after Eeny-Meeny that evening.

"What's the matter?" they asked of Katherine.

"He ran into Eeny-Meeny," explained Katherine, "and it scared the wits out of him."

There was another rush of feet and Uncle Teddy and the Sandwiches came on a dead run. They had heard the yell and were coming to see what was the matter. The strange man in the Norfolk suit, nearly dead from embarrassment, explained that he and his friend were camping some distance up the river and his friend had gone out walking in the early evening and come home with dripping clothes, having accidentally fallen into the river. Here the girls and boys looked at each other and had much ado to keep their faces straight. The friend had gone to bed and later in the evening had been taken with a severe chill. He had happened to mention that he passed a large camping party in his walk. Seeing the light of the fire through the trees and taking it to be this camp which his friend had seen he had taken the liberty of walking over to ask if Uncle Teddy had any brandy. But before he had seen any of the campers or come near enough to hail them he had run into something in the darkness, and upon scratching a match was horrified to see an Indian girl tied to a tree. (Katherine had tied Eeny-Meeny up so she wouldn't fall over in the night.) In his fright he had cried out, and that was what had aroused the camp. He was very sorry, but he had never come upon an Indian in the woods at night, even a wooden cigar store one, and thought he might be pardoned for being frightened.

His exclamation when Eeny-Meeny was explained to him was just like that of his friend: "Well, really!" And there was that same shade of doubt in his voice as to the sanity of people who carried such a thing along with them on a canoe trip.

"Oh—I say," he called back, when Uncle Teddy had given him a small flask of brandy and pointed out the nearest route back, "if you should happen to run into my friend anywhere while you are in these woods would you be so kind as not to mention this—er—mistake of mine? He is something of a joker, and I am afraid if this story came to his ears he would repeat it where it would cause me some embarrassment."

And he departed as solemnly as the other had done, leaving the campers limp with merriment.

The next day they ascended the river as far as they could go, with nothing more exciting than the dropping overboard of Katherine's poncho. On the return trip the punctured canoe began to leak, so her crew and supplies were transferred to Eeny-Meeny's canoe and she was towed along in the leaky one, with frequent stops to bail out the water when she seemed in danger of being swamped. They spent the second night in the same place where they had spent the first, and this time there was no disturbance. They mended the leaky canoe again and Eeny-Meeny finished her trip in comparative dryness.

"Oh, dear," said Katherine, when they were back at Ellen's Isle once more, and had finished telling Mr. and Mrs. Evans their adventures, "what was there in life worth living for anyway, before we had Eeny-Meeny?"



CHAPTER VII

A FAST AND A SILENCE

Being Chief that week it was Katherine's duty to blow the rising horn in the morning. The day after the return from the canoe trip was the morning for war canoe practice. The crew practised three mornings a week before breakfast. Katherine, who had gone to sleep with the idea firmly fixed in her mind that she must wake by a quarter to seven so that she could rouse the others, awoke with a start, dreaming that she had overslept and the others had tied her in her bed and gone off without her. The world was dull and grey and covered with a chilly mist. There was nothing to inspire a desire to go war canoe practicing. Katherine was still tired from the strenuous paddling of the past two days, and she stretched in delicious comfort under the covers. Then she pulled her watch from under her pillow and looked at it.

"Gracious!" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed. "It's ten after seven. I have overslept! It's so grey this morning it seems much earlier."

She seized the horn and blew a mighty blast at the other girls, who were still sleeping peacefully. One by one they opened their eyes drowsily.

"Get up!" shouted Katherine. "We've overslept! This is the morning for crew practice and it's ten after seven already."

"Seems as if I'd just fallen asleep," grumbled Hinpoha, half rising from the pillow and then sinking down into its warm depths again.

"It's horrid and misty out," sighed Gladys. "Do we have crew practice if it isn't a nice day?"

"We certainly do," said Katherine emphatically, buttoning the last button of her bathing suit and departing to wake the others.

In the next tent she encountered the same sleepy protest. "I didn't think we went out when it was misty," said Migwan, regretfully leaving the warm embrace of her blankets.

"I'm so comfortable," sighed Nakwisi.

Katherine stood in the doorway with arms akimbo and delivered her mind. "What kind of sports are you, anyway? Just because it's cold and misty you want to stay in bed all day and sleep. It's no test of energy to get out on a fine morning and paddle a canoe, that's pure fun; a cold, wet day is the real test of sportsmanship. What kind of Winnebagos are you? You sing:

"'We always think the weather's fine in sunshine or in snow,' and then when the chance comes to prove it you back down."

"We haven't backed down," said Migwan hastily, "and we aren't going to. See, I'm up already." And she reached for her bathing suit.

Katherine passed out of the tent and took her position on the high place between the two encampments where her horn would awaken the boys. It took no end of lusty blowing before she heard the answering shout that told they had heard and were getting up.

"Such a bunch of sleepy heads," she called aloud to the trees. "They paddle a few miles and think they're killed and have to sleep a week to make up for it. I won't have it while I'm Chief. We must get hardened down to all kinds of weather or else we're not true sports." And she marched back to her tent to see that none of the girls had slipped back to bed while she was out. They were all grumbling and yawning, but were dutifully getting into their bathing suits.

"Mine's wet," wailed Hinpoha, "and—ouch! it's cold. I forgot to hang it up after our swim last night. I think it's cruelty to animals to make a person get into a wet bathing suit."

"Serves you right for not hanging it up," said Katherine imperturbably.

It was a chilly and unenthusiastic crew that manned the war canoe a few minutes later. The boys had been just as reluctant to leave their beds as the girls, though none of them would admit it. Katherine lectured them all on their doleful countenances and repeated her remarks about the test of sportsmanship. After that nobody dared open their mouths about the unpleasantness of the weather; in dogged silence they dipped their paddles and pushed out into the greyness.

"Sing something," commanded Katherine, "and put a little life into your paddling! Ready now, 'We pull long, we pull strong.'"

And obediently they opened their mouths and sang, but it sounded all out of tune and they couldn't keep together no matter how hard they tried.

"Did the lake ever look so big and cold to you before?" asked Hinpoha in a forlorn voice after the attempt at singing had been given up.

"And St. Pierre looks about a thousand miles away, and all grey and shabby," said Gladys.

"Do you think it will rain so much today that we can't go over to St. Pierre with the little launch engine?" asked the Captain.

"No telling," said Uncle Teddy, vainly trying to stifle a telltale yawn. Uncle Teddy was secretly wishing that Katherine had overslept with the rest of them and did not have such a tremendous idea of good sportsmanship. But, being a thorough sport, he shook himself out of his drowsiness and shouted the paddling commands lustily.

"One, two! One, two! Click stroke! Ready, dip!"

And the paddles clicked and dipped, as the paddlers began to feel the energy rising in their systems.

"Water wheel!" shouted Uncle Teddy, and the paddles flashed backward in a wide circle between each dip.

"Wasn't that fun?" said Sahwah. "I'm getting wider awake every minute. You were right about making us get up, Katherine. If I'd slept as long as I wanted to I'd have felt 'dumpy' all day, but now I feel fine and just full of pep."

"So do I," said Gladys.

"I don't," said Hinpoha dolefully. "I guess I'm not much of a sport, but I'm getting sleepier every minute."

"You girls talk too long before you go to sleep nights," said the Captain. "That's why you're not ready to get up in the morning. We can hear you away down in our tents, long after we're asleep."

"How can you hear us after you're asleep?" demanded Katherine, and the Captain, caught in a bull, subsided in confusion.

"Well, anyway," said Hinpoha, "I'm going back to bed as soon as we land and sleep until breakfast time. I'm not going for a dip this morning."

"You can't sleep," said Katherine, the martinet, "you're on breakfast duty. And you'll have to step lively at that, for it's late this morning and the animals will all be hungry."

"What time is it?" asked Sahwah.

"It must be pretty near eight," answered Katherine. "Wait a minute until I look at my watch." She fished around in the pocket of her sweater, pulling out first half a comb, then several peanuts, and finally the watch.

"It's ten after seven," she said. "Why, it can't be that—that's what it was when I got up. The watch has stopped. I don't know what time it is, but it must be nearly eight."

Just then a tiny golden beam fell on the water in front of the canoe. "It's clearing up," said Sahwah joyfully. "It isn't going to rain after all today." She twisted her head upward to see where the sun was breaking through the clouds. "Why——" she exclaimed in bewilderment, "where is the sun?"

They all looked around. There was the sun, just beginning to peep over the eastern horizon. "It's—it's just rising!" said Katherine, dumbfounded. "Did it oversleep, too?"

"No, it didn't," said Uncle Teddy. "Old Sol is the one person who always wakes on time. And at this season of the year his time is about four o'clock A. M."

"It's only four o'clock!" they all shouted. "Katherine, you wretch, you pulled us out of our beds at half past three! You did it on purpose!"

But one glance at Katherine's amazed face dispelled all doubts on that score, and set them into a wild gale of laughter. If ever a person was taken aback it was Katherine. "My watch must have stopped at ten after seven last night," she said sheepishly. "I remember now, I didn't wind it. No wonder it was so grey and misty we thought it was going to rain!"

"The real test of sportsmanship!" scoffed the Captain. "I should say we were some fine sports, getting up at half past three the morning after a canoe trip and going out to crew practice!"

"And me getting into a wet bathing suit!" mourned Hinpoha. "I think I ought to have a Carnegie medal for that."

Even the sun seemed to be laughing, as he climbed up over the rim of the water and turned the wavelets into gold. They paddled back to the dock as fast as they could go, laughing so they could hardly dip their paddles, and singing,

"Hail to the Chief who at sunrise advances!"

Arrived at the dock they scurried up the path and got back into bed as soon as they could, and journeyed back into the land of dreams without delay. Katherine refused to blow the rising horn at all, but let them sleep as long as they wanted to, and it was nine o'clock before the first one stirred. Breakfast was served at ten instead of at eight, and was the most hilarious meal they had eaten since coming to Ellen's Isle. Song after song was made up about Katherine's "False alarm" and her "rising qualities." Finally they rose from the table and putting their hands on each other's shoulders they formed a circle around her and danced a snake dance, singing:

"For she's a really good sportsman, For she's a really good sportsman, For she's a really good sportsman, Which no one can deny!"

"Don't be cross, Katherine," said Gladys, running from the circle to put her arms around her. "We're horrid, nasty things to make such fun of you, but it was such a good joke on you!"

"Oh, I'll forgive you all," said Katherine magnanimously, "but I still have a sneaking suspicion that the joke was on you!"

"All aboard for St. Pierre," cried Uncle Teddy. "How many of you boys want to come along? Company form ranks on the pier!"

There was a wild scramble down the hill to be on time, for it was an invariable rule that those who were not there when the boat was ready to start were left behind. There was no waiting for laggards. They all made it this time and chugged out of sight, still hearing echoes of the laughter on Ellen's Isle.

It took so long to get the engine fixed that they decided to wait over and have dinner at St. Pierre. While they were eating there a big, bronzed man walked up and slapped Uncle Teddy on the shoulder. Uncle Teddy greeted him joyfully.

"Hello, Colonel Berry! Where in the firmament did you come from?"

"Oh, I just rained down," said the big stranger, laughing. "But talking about firmaments, just what are you doing in this corner of the country?"

Uncle Teddy explained, and introduced Mr. Evans and the boys. "These are the Sandwiches," he said, including them all in a comprehensive wave of his hand, whereat Colonel Berry roared with laughter. "Boys, meet Colonel C. C. Berry, the best woodsman in fourteen states, and the best goodfellow in the world."

The boys acknowledged the introduction with great politeness and respect, but Colonel Berry insisted on shaking hands all around, "just as if we were senators," the Captain explained afterward.

Mr. Evans immediately invited Colonel Berry to visit them at Ellen's Isle, and the Sandwiches all echoed the plea eagerly, just as if he had been an old and beloved friend instead of a new acquaintance.

The colonel replied that his business would take him out of St. Pierre the following evening, but he would be delighted to run over and spend that night with them on Ellen's Isle.

It was not without considerable pride that Mr. Evans pointed out "his island" to Colonel Berry later in the afternoon as the launch approached it on their return home. The way affairs were run on that little island was something to be proud of, as he well knew, and which even a distinguished camper and woodsman must admire. The boys were busy describing the wonders of Ellen's Isle and kept saying, "Wait until you see our girls. Wait until you see Sahwah dive off the bow of the war canoe and Gladys hold a parasol over her head when she swims. Wait until you eat some of Hinpoha's slumgullion!"

"I'm surprised they're not all down on the landing waiting for us," said Mr. Evans, as they ran the launch in. "They generally are. But they'll be down immediately." Making a trumpet of his hands he called, "Oh, Mother! Gladys! Aunt Clara!" There was no answer. "They must be in the tents," he said. "Come on up." He helped the colonel up the steep path and shouted again. Still no answer. He went over to Mrs. Evans' tent. The sides were rolled up and it was empty. So was the other one. "They must be away at the other end of the island," said Mr. Evans. He struck into the path which led up the men's encampment, and which ran through the "kitchen." The fire, which was generally burning there around supper time, was carefully laid, but not lighted. "Where can they be?" said Mr. Evans to Uncle Teddy in a puzzled tone. Just then his eye fell on a piece of paper tucked under the handle of the water bucket. Wonderingly he opened it and read:

"Dear men folks:

"Seeing that you have found amusement for the day we have gone on a picnic to the Point of Pines. We will stay all night if the sleeping is good. Everything is ready for supper; just help yourselves."

"Of all things!" exclaimed Mr. Evans in vexation. "Just the day we have a guest I am particularly anxious to have them meet they take it into their heads to go off and spend the night. Where on earth is the Point of Pines?"

Nobody seemed to know just where it was, but they all remembered hearing the girls talking about it and hearing them say that some time when it was dry they were going over there by themselves with Aunt Clara and Mrs. Evans and have a "hen party." The general idea was that the Point of Pines was a long point running out into the water on the mainland to the north of them, where the pines grew very tall and close together.

"Captain, you get into the launch and go over there and see if you can find them," ordered Uncle Teddy. "It's a pity to break up a ladies' party in such a gorgeously select and private place as the Point of Pines, but they would never forgive us if we let them miss the chance to meet Colonel Berry. And in the meantime, we might as well get busy on the supper. It will be some time before they come back. Slim, you tie on an apron and pare potatoes; Anthony, you fill the water buckets; Pitt, you open several cans of tomatoes."

"Here, let me take a hand," said the colonel, just as though he were not a guest. "I haven't cooked in the open most of my life for nothing." So he found an apron and fell to work mixing biscuits. The colonel was a tall man—six feet two—and the apron belonged to Migwan, who was short, and when tied around his waist line it did not reach half way to his knees. Slim's apron was long enough, but it would not go anywhere near around him. Being unable to tie the strings he tucked the apron in over his belt and let it go as far as it would.

"Where's the bread knife?" asked Mr. Evans, coming out of the supply tent, after rushing around inside for several minutes in a vain search.

"Slim has it paring potatoes," said Uncle Teddy, looking around. Slim handed it over and finished the potatoes with his pocket knife. Pitt had broken the paring knife trying to open a can with it when he could not find the can opener.

"Hurry up with those potatoes, Slim," called Uncle Teddy. "They ought to be on now in order to get cooked with the rest of the things."

"Just finished," said Slim, sucking his thumb, which he had that minute gashed with the knife. He rose and carried the dish of pared potatoes over to the kettle of boiling water waiting to receive them, but half way over he tripped on the apron, which had slipped down under his feet, and sat down with a great splash in the kettle of tomatoes, standing on the ground awaiting its turn at the fire, while the potatoes rolled in all directions in the dirt.

Uncle Teddy and Mr. Evans and Colonel Berry came running at the noise, and after one glimpse of poor, fat Slim sitting there in the tomatoes sucking his thumb, they leaned against the trees and doubled up in helpless laughter, not one of them able to go to his rescue. Pitt and Anthony came running at the sound and joined their laughter with that of the men until the woods fairly rang.

Suddenly their laughter was echoed by a smothered giggle, which seemed to come from the sky. Startled, they looked up, to see Hinpoha's convulsed face peering down at them between the branches of a high tree. They dropped their knives and dishes in amazement. "What are you doing up there?" gasped Mr. Evans. Hinpoha went into a perfect gale of merriment, which was echoed from all the trees around, and soon other faces were peering down between the branches—Aunt Clara's, Mrs. Evans', Sahwah's, Katherine's, Migwan's, Antha's, Nakwisi's, Gladys's. Every one of those naughty Winnebagos had been hiding in the treetops and watching the men cook supper down below!

Still convulsed, they descended into the midst of the amazed cooks.

"I thought you said you'd gone to the Point of Pines?" said Mr. Evans, in his surprise completely forgetting to introduce Colonel Berry.

"We did," replied Mrs. Evans sweetly. "It wasn't our fault that you misunderstood our note."

"I'd like to see anybody that wouldn't have misunderstood it," retorted Mr. Evans.

"Don't be cross, dearest," said Mrs. Evans, still more sweetly. "Of course you misunderstood our note; we meant that you should. You have played so many tricks on us that we thought it was time we played one on you. We intended to stay up there until you had supper all ready and then come down to the feast, and planned on a nice enjoyable time seeing you work. But the reality surpassed the expectation by a hundred miles. We never expected to see such a show as we did. When you sent the searching party out after us we were nearly convulsed; the spectacle of Slim sitting there in that apron paring potatoes with the butcher knife was almost fatal to the branch I sat on; but when he tripped and sat down in the tomato kettle it was beyond human endurance and we just naturally exploded. Now won't you forgive us and introduce your guest? He seems to have made himself quite at home already."

Mr. Evans came to himself with a start and performed the introduction. It was impossible to be formal with the colonel in that ridiculous short apron, and every introduction was accompanied by a fresh peal of laughter.

"The idea of deceiving your good husband like that," said the colonel, "and deliberately writing misleading notes! I shall entertain a very equivocal opinion of you young ladies," he continued with twinkling eyes. "The Point of Pines, indeed!"

"Well, weren't we at the Point of Pines, I'd like to know?" demanded Katherine. "There was the point of a pine poking me in the back all the while. If you'd been up in that pine you would have appreciated the point. And if we couldn't get down again we would have had to stay there all night."

Supper was ready to serve before anybody remembered about the Captain, who had been sent over to the real Point of Pines to look for the girls. Slim and Pitt immediately went after him and met him when they had gone half way across the lake, returning to camp with the discouraging news that he had not been able to find anybody on the Point.

"Was there ever such a topsy turvy day as this?" asked Gladys, as they sat around the glowing camp fire that night after supper. "First Katherine gets us up at half past three on a false alarm; we have crew practice and then go back to bed and don't get up until nine. And things have kept happening all day until the grand climax just now. Some days stand out like that from all others as the day on which everything happened."

Colonel Berry was a delightful talker and told many stories of his life as a guide in northwestern Canada, as well as many anecdotes of the Indians among whom he lived for some time.

"Colonel Berry," said Hinpoha during one of the pauses in his speech, "may I ask you something?"

"Ask anything you want?" replied the colonel gallantly.

"Did the Indians ever bury anything under stones?"

"Did the Indians ever bury anything under stones?" repeated the colonel. "You mean the bodies of their dead? Customs varied as to that. Some tribes buried their dead in the ground, some left them on mountain tops unburied, and some wrapped the bodies and placed them in trees."

"I don't know whether I mean people or not," said Hinpoha, and told about finding the marked rock in the ravine.

"It is barely possible that something is buried there," said the colonel, "although rocks have been marked for a good many reasons."

"It seemed such a good place to hide something," said Sahwah shrewdly. "The ravine itself was dark and hard to get into, but it was easy to find your way back to it if you had been there once, because all you had to do was keep on going until you had passed seven big cedar trees. If we picked our way through the woods by that trail, other people probably have done the same thing. Maybe the Indians buried something there they intended to come back after, and marked the rock they put it under."

"Possibly," said the colonel doubtfully. "A great many Indian relics have been dug up around the shores of these lakes; arrow heads, pieces of pottery and ornaments of various kinds. Such things might have been buried before a hasty flight and never recovered."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if there was something buried under that rock, and we should go there and dig it up!" said Hinpoha, half starting up in her excitement.

"Mind, I'm not saying there is anything buried there," said the Colonel hastily. "I only said it was remotely possible. The Indians have been gone from this region for so long that it is not safe to speculate upon anything they might have left. I only know that from time to time things have been found accidentally."

"Do you think we'd better dig?" asked Hinpoha eagerly.

"Well, there wouldn't be any harm in it," said the colonel quizzically. "You might find something of interest, and if you don't—digging is good exercise." And there the subject was left.

"Tell us a real Indian story," begged Gladys of the colonel. "A story of the old Indians."

The colonel obligingly consented and told them a tale as follows:

THE STORY OF BLUE ELK

"Blue Elk was the son of a Chieftain. During his boyhood the tribe to which he belonged lived in the barren, hilly country lying to the north of our great plains. They were forced to live there by their enemies, who drove them out of the fertile hunting grounds which were theirs by right. Thus the tribe was poor and had very few horses and other things which the Indians counted as wealth. Their war costumes were not nearly so splendid as those of other tribes and their women had very few ornaments. They often had hard work getting enough to eat, for they lived far away from the places where the buffalo were plentiful, and when the winter was long and hard there was much suffering.

"Blue Elk, though only a boy, thought deeply on the condition of his people. He wanted them to be rich and powerful as other tribes were. When he reached the age where the Indian youth leaves boyhood behind him and becomes a brave, he entered upon a fast, as every Indian boy must do before he can be counted a man. He first built a sweat lodge and purified himself with the steam bath; then he blackened his face and went off by himself to a lonely rock ledge up the side of the mountain where he stayed for three days without eating anything, watching for some sign from the Great Spirit, which would be a guide for his future life.

"To the Indian this fast is of great significance. It is the conquering of the body by the mind; the freeing of the soul from the desires of the flesh. To him the silence around him is the Great Mystery, and he believes that during this time he talks face to face with the Great Spirit.

"Blue Elk lay for a long time, his soul steeped in profound peace, waiting for the Great Spirit to speak to him through some phenomenon of nature. There was only one wish in his heart; that through him his people might become prosperous and great. At last he fell asleep and dreamed that the Great Spirit stood before him in the form of a white buffalo and spoke thus: 'Where the two bright eyes of heaven (the Twin Stars) are seen shining at noonday, there will the fortune of my people be found.'

"Blue Elk awoke much perplexed at this message from the Great Spirit. What could it mean? 'It is not possible for the Two Stars to shine at midday,' he said. But that was the message the Great Spirit had given him, and so great was his faith that he never doubted for a moment that a miracle would occur which would bring about the fortune of his people.

"Time passed on; Blue Elk became a brave and went on the warpath and brought home the scalps of many enemies. But the tribe was still poor and the winter often brought famine. One day when Blue Elk was being hotly pursued by a band of enemies he hid in a deep cave in the side of a hill. Faint and exhausted he flung himself on the floor. As his eyes turned upward in a prayer to the Great Spirit he saw there was an opening high up in the top of the cave and through the dark shaft thus formed the Twin Stars were shining brightly. He sprang to his feet in amazement and wonder, the words of the prophecy coming back to him. 'Where the two bright eyes of heaven are seen shining at noonday, there will the fortune of my people be found.' It was just midday. And there were the stars shining down the shaft. The Great Spirit had brought the miracle to pass! But where was the fortune? Forgetting that he was hard pressed by the enemies, Blue Elk ran from the cave. His pursuers were nowhere in sight. He looked eagerly into the sky to behold the sight of the stars shining in daylight. They had vanished. Was it a dream, a trick of the imagination?

"He ran back into the cave and there were the stars shining as brightly as before. Then the truth came to him. The Great Spirit had said that where the stars shone there would the fortune be found. They were not shining outside, there was no fortune there; they were shining in the cave, so the fortune was in the cave. He looked around carefully. On the floor were some pieces of what he thought were stones. But they glittered in a strange way. 'The stars have come down into the stones!' said Blue Elk. 'These Star Stones are the fortune of my people!' (The Star Stones were silver ore.) And a fortune they proved to be. With them his people were able to buy peace with the surrounding tribes and extend their hunting grounds so that they no longer wanted for food or skins or blankets. And Blue Elk believed firmly to his dying day that the Great Spirit had spoken to him in person during his fast on the mountain."

* * * * *

"Oh, what a lovely story!" said Gladys. "Thank you very much for telling it. Is it a true story?"

"The Indian who told it to me certainly believed it," replied Colonel Berry.

"But," objected the practical Sahwah, "how was it possible for the stars to shine in daylight?"

"Have you ever looked up through a very tall chimney?" asked the colonel. "By looking through a long, dark, narrow shaft it is possible to see the stars in daylight. I myself have seen the Little Dipper at noonday in that manner. You will remember that Blue Elk was in a cave in a hillside. A long, narrow passage through the rocks led to a hole in the roof. Looking through this he saw the Twin Stars, and the supposed miracle was merely a phenomenon of nature. Naturally, when he went outside, he could not see them."

Colonel Berry told many more tales of the red men, but the story of Blue Elk remained the favorite. That glimpse of a far-away boyhood struck a sympathetic chord that tales of middle-aged wisdom and cunning failed to awaken. The colonel left Ellen's Isle at noon the next day and the whole camp escorted him as far at St. Pierre in the canoes, like a squadron of battleships accompanying a liner. They parted from him with genuine regret and sang a mighty cheer in his honor as they pushed off on the return trip to Ellen's Isle.

"Uncle Teddy," said the Captain, as they sat around the fire at Ellen's Isle that night, talking over the events of the previous day, "I am going to do the three-day fast like the Indian boys did."

"Ho-ho-ho!" shouted Slim. "You couldn't go a day without something to eat."

"Don't judge others by yourself," retorted the Captain. "You couldn't, I know well enough. But I believe the Indians were right in saying that the mind should conquer the body. I like that idea of going off by yourself and watching for some sign from nature. Being away from people and not hearing them talk gives you a great chance to think out the things that are puzzling you. I am going over on the mainland, in the woods, and keep the fast three days."

Of course, Aunt Clara didn't want him to do it. She immediately had visions of him starved to death. But there was a wonderful gleam in Uncle Teddy's eyes when he looked at his nephew. He said very little about the proposed fast, either to encourage or discourage him; simply gave his consent.

Hinpoha regarded the Captain with wondering admiration. She also burned with the desire to do something hard, to prove that girls as well as boys can practise self-control. "Oh, Captain," she said, "if you keep the fast I'll keep the silence! I'll not speak a word for three days."

There was a ripple of exclamations at this, mixed with laughter, for Hinpoha's fondness for conversation was well known. "Laugh all you want to," she said, "but I'll prove to you that I can do it."

The Captain chose the spot for his retirement and on the first day after he was released from Chiefhood he paddled across to the mainland taking his blankets and water, but no food. Hinpoha stood on the bank as he departed, with a middy tie bound over her mouth. She had feared her ability to keep silence without it as a constant reminder.

When the Captain reached the place where he planned to spread his blankets he found an Indian bed of balsam branches fully two feet high. Who could have made it? he wondered, and then he remembered that Hinpoha had gone off paddling by herself the afternoon before. She knew the place he had picked out. He threw himself down on the fragrant couch and began his long struggle for the victory of the spirit over the body. Every night at sunset Uncle Teddy went over to see if he was all right and bring him fresh water from the little sweet spring on Ellen's Isle. The third day the Captain lay with his eyes closed most of the time and dozed, the sounds of the wood and the lake coming to him as from afar off. Sometimes he slept and once he dreamed he saw an Indian girl come across the lake in a canoe, walk up to where he lay and stand looking at him steadily for a long time. He half opened his eyes and it still seemed to him as if there were someone there, but the face and the figure were Hinpoha's. He opened his eyes wider and looked again, but she had vanished, and he sank back to sleep.

Over at Ellen's Isle Hinpoha was going through the most strenuous three days in her whole experience. If anyone thinks it is easy to refrain from talking when one has talked all her life, let her try it, and her respect for Hinpoha will be greatly increased. The others tried by every means at their command to make her talk, popping questions at her suddenly to take her off her guard, making statements in her presence which she knew were incorrect and which she burned to correct, and in every way making the fulfillment of her vow a difficult task. She could not go off by herself and thus remove the temptation, for she had vowed to go about her daily tasks as usual. By the end of the third day she was nearly ready to burst, but through it all she managed to keep an unruffled temper and a pleasant expression—the outward signs of a soul at peace. There will be many readers who will maintain that Hinpoha won the greater victory, although the Captain's exploit won him more glory among his friends. To go off and fast has the halo of romance about it; to cease from talking for three days sounds easy, and in the case of a woman is apt to provoke smiles and hints that she must have talked in her sleep to make up for it.

When Uncle Teddy went over on the third sunset he brought the Captain home with him in the canoe. He looked just as he did when he went; not a bit thinner. When they asked him how he could stand it he replied that he hadn't felt hungry after the first day at all. A great feast had been prepared in his honor, and Hinpoha, released from her vow, shared the glory with him.

"Well, was anything revealed to you during your fast?" asked Aunt Clara. "Do you know how to make your fortune now?"

The Captain only smiled at all remarks like that and in reply to demands as to what had been revealed simply replied, "Oh, several things." And his glance rested on Hinpoha for a fraction of a second.

"What did you dream about?" asked Hinpoha.

"Water," said the Captain. "That isn't surprising, though. There was water all around me in the lake and water in the jug beside me. And it was the only thing I was putting into my stomach, and dreams usually are the result of what you eat."

"I would have dreamed about turkey dinners and slumgullion and fudge," said Slim, spearing his fourth potato.

"You probably would," said the Captain, without a tinge of sarcasm. And his eyes rested on Hinpoha again for a fraction of a second.



CHAPTER VIII

A SEARCH FOR RELICS

The statement made by Colonel Berry that there might possibly be something buried under the rock in the ravine had made a deep impression on the Winnebagos and Sandwiches, and the possibility began to grow in their minds until it became a very strong probability. Visions of arrow heads, Indian pottery and ornaments were before them constantly, until nothing would do but they must investigate. The elders were much amused over the excitement, but voted it a harmless pastime and gave their full consent to an attempt at scientific research.

"Older and wiser people than they have spent their time digging in the dust for relics," said Uncle Teddy. "Even if they don't find what they are looking for there is nothing lost, and as the colonel said, digging is good exercise. It will be no small feat to move that rock over and if they accomplish it they will be pretty good engineers."

There were two spades and many hatchets among the camp equipment, and armed with these the Winnebagos and Sandwiches crossed the lake, went along the river until they came to the big cedar tree and from there struck into the woods, where they easily followed the trail they had traveled on that other occasion, for the cedar trees along the way were unmistakable guides. When they saw the rock again they were more certain than ever that it had been marked for some reason.

"Hurry and let's shove it aside," said Hinpoha, who could hardly wait.

"You talk about shoving it aside as if it were a baby carriage," said the Captain. "Can't you see it's imbedded in the earth?"

And not all their efforts would budge it one particle. So they began to dig around the base. They dug and they dug; they heaved and they perspired; they threw out the dirt by shovelfuls until it made a heap several feet high, and still they did not come to the bottom of the rock.

"I bet it goes clear through to China," said the Captain disgustedly, resting on his spade and mopping his brow.

"What sillies we are!" said the Bottomless Pitt. "What are we trying to dig the blooming rock out for? There wouldn't be anything under it that far down. If anything's buried here it's in the ground at the base of the rock."

"Well, there's the ground at the base of the rock," said the Captain, pointing to the heap of dirt. "We've dug it all up. There wasn't anything in it."

Slowly but undeniably the fact began to dawn on all of them. The marked rock was not the burying ground of any Indian relics. Hinpoha held out the longest, but even she had to admit it at last. Katherine, who had been skeptical from the first, laughed loud and long.

"What fools these mortals be!" she quoted disgustedly. "Breaking our backs digging up clay that's like iron and cutting up dozens of perfectly good angle-worms all on account of an old rock with a mark on it!"

"But the colonel said there might be Indian relics," said Hinpoha, "so it wasn't so silly."

"Well, there aren't any," said Katherine.

"Never mind," put in Gladys pacifically, "if we didn't find anything we didn't lose anything either, and I've worked up such an appetite from digging that I could eat an ox."

"So could I," said Sahwah. "Let's take the worms home with us and go fishing this afternoon. Then all our digging won't be for nothing."

"I bet I can catch more than any of you," boasted Anthony, strutting on ahead as usual.

Thus ended the quest for Indian relics and the excitement over the marked rock. The elders were very polite on their return and did not ask too many questions. "Never mind, chickens," said Aunt Clara soothingly. "You're not the first who dug for treasure and didn't find it, and I've a notion you won't be the last. Go fishing with you this afternoon? I certainly will!" If Aunt Clara could be said to love one sport more than any other that one was fishing. "Where did you get all the worms?"

"They're the relics we found," said Katherine. "We dug them out of the hole we made."

"I dug most of them," said Anthony.

"He never touched one!" said Slim in an indignant aside to Hinpoha. "To hear him talk you'd think he was the only one who ever did anything around here."

Katherine considered fishing the most inane occupation under the sun, so she curled up on the beach to read while the enthusiastic anglers put out in the rowboats. Gladys did not care for fishing either, so she decided to stay on shore and keep Katherine company.

"What are you reading?" she asked, sitting down beside her in the shadow of the bluff.

Katherine held up the book so she could see the title.

"Romeo and Juliet!" exclaimed Gladys. "Why, Katherine! I thought you hated love stories."

Katherine grinned rather shamefacedly. "I do, usually," she replied.

Gladys sat back and regarded her in wonder. Here was a new side coming to light. Katherine the unromantic; Katherine the prosaic; the independent, the hater of sentimental reading, devouring love stories all of a sudden! Gladys drew pictures in the sand and pondered on the meaning of it.

Katherine read on absorbedly for ten minutes, then she laid the book down abruptly. "Gladys," she said, "I want you to tell me something."

"What is it?" asked Gladys, pausing in the middle of an intricate pattern.

"What is the matter with me?" asked Katherine.

"What's the matter with you?" repeated Gladys. "There isn't anything the matter with you. You're a dear."

"There is, too," said Katherine. "Somehow all the girls I read about in books are different. You're like the girls in books and so is Hinpoha and so are the rest of you, but I'm not. I'm big and awkward and homely, and that's all I'll ever be."

"No, you're not," declared Gladys. "You're the most fun that ever happened."

"That's just the trouble," said Katherine, drawing up her knees and clasping her bony hands around them. "Everybody thinks I'm a joke, and that's all. Nobody ever admired me. People think I'm a cross between a lunatic asylum and a circus. I'm so tired of hearing people say, 'What a funny girl that Katherine Adams is! She's a perfect scream!' They never say 'What a nice looking girl,' or 'What a charming girl,' the way they always do about you and Hinpoha. I do wish somebody admired me once without being so desperately amused! Now I want you to tell me exactly what's the matter with my looks. Something's wrong, I know." And she looked wistfully through the strands of hair that were falling over her eyes.

Gladys sat up and regarded her fondly. "Dear, fly-away, come-to-pieces Katherine!

"Do you mind if I make a few criticisms?" she asked gently.

"That's just what I asked you to do," said Katherine a trifle impatiently.

"Isn't it because you're sort of—careless about your clothes?" began Gladys. "You're always coming apart somewhere. There's generally a string hanging out, or the end of a belt or the loop of a collar. You're just as likely to have your hat on hind side before as not, and often you've had on the skirt of one suit and the jacket of another."

She paused uncertainly and looked anxiously into Katherine's face to see how she was taking it.

"Go on," said Katherine briefly.

"Your shoes are often run down at the heels," went on Gladys. "I know it's an awful bother to keep them straight; mine are always running over crooked. I have to have the left one fixed every three weeks. But it's something that just has to be done if you want to keep looking neat.

"And then your hair, Katherine dear. It's so wispy; it's always hanging in your face. Doesn't it hurt your eyes to look through it?"

Katherine put back the offending lock with an impatient gesture, but in less than a minute it was all down again. "There!" she said. "You see how it is! It just won't stay up!"

"Maybe it would if you arranged it a little differently," said Gladys. "Couldn't you curl it?"

Katherine snorted. "I curl my hair!" she scoffed. "My child, life is too short to waste it on anything like that."

"I don't know," said Gladys slowly. "I don't think anything is a waste of time that helps to make a person attractive. You know we Camp Fire Girls are supposed to 'seek beauty.' That means personal attractiveness as much as anything else."

"I might take the curling iron for my symbol," said Katherine whimsically. "Go on with the recital."

Gladys could not tell either from Katherine's tone or her expression whether her frank speech had hurt her feelings or not, and she remained silent.

"Go on," continued Katherine. "Isn't there a way to shorten up arms that are two yards long?"

Gladys could not help smiling at the lean length of arm which Katherine held out before her, stiff as a ramrod. "No, you can't shorten them," she said, "but you can help making them look any longer than necessary. You generally stand with your shoulders drooped forward, and that pulls your arms down. If you'd stand up straight and throw your shoulders back your arms wouldn't look nearly so long."

Katherine looked at the arm and shook her head with such an air of dejection that Gladys was overcome and flung her arms around her passionately. "I won't say another word!" she declared. "Oh, I'm a brute! Katherine dear, have I hurt your feelings?"

"Not at all," answered Katherine calmly. "You remember I asked you to tell me what was the matter. I thank you for being so frank. I've worried and worried about it, but I couldn't figure out what the matter was and nobody ever took the trouble to tell me."

"Oh, Gladys," she went on, with such an under-current of wistfulness in her tone that Gladys was almost moved to tears, "do you think I'll ever be really nice looking? That I'll stop being a joke?"

"Of course you will!" said Gladys emphatically. "Do you know what I heard papa saying to Uncle Teddy one night? He said, 'Wouldn't Katherine be a stunning looking girl if she carried herself better and was well dressed?' Did you hear that? He said 'stunning,' mind you. Not only 'nice looking,' but 'stunning.'"

"Did he really say that?" asked Katherine in amazement. "I didn't think anybody cared how I looked; men least of all."

"Men notice those things a lot more than you think they do," said Gladys with an air of worldly wisdom. "They talk about them, too, and sometimes they can tell just what's wrong better than you can yourself.

"I think myself you would be stunning if you only took more care in putting your clothes on. You're so bright and breezy. And you'd be so stately if you stood straight."

"How shall I go about to acquire this majestic carriage?" asked Katherine in the tone of a humble seeker after wisdom.

"Well," replied Gladys judicially, "you've humped over so long that you've grown round-shouldered, and it'll take some time to correct that. You want to go in for gym with all your might in college, and for dancing, too. That'll teach you how to carry yourself gracefully better than anything else."

"Thank—you," said Katherine slowly, when Gladys had finished her homily on feminine charms, and returned thoughtfully to her Romeo and Juliet.

"Mercy on us!" thought Gladys. "Whatever is going to happen? Katherine has begun to worry about her looks!"

Katherine laid the book down after a while and stared solemnly out over the lake.

"You're sure you're not offended at what I said?" asked Gladys, still full of misgiving that she had been too frank.

"Not in the least," answered Katherine. "But say, would you mind writing out what you told me? I'll never remember it if you don't. You write it out and I'll tack it up and check off the items as I dress."

"All right," said Gladys, laughing. "I'll do that and if it works I'll get out a book, 'How to Be Neat, in one Volume.' And now let's start the fire. I see the bold fishermen are coming in."

Aunt Clara came up triumphantly swinging her string of fish; she had caught five. The Captain had two and several of the others had one apiece.

"How many did you catch, Anthony?" asked Katherine.

"None," replied Anthony, "but I'd have caught more than any of them if I'd had a good rod," and he swished Uncle Teddy's best rod around disdainfully.