"Antha," she said, approaching her with the camera, and speaking in the same matter-of-fact tone she used toward the older girls, "will you row across the lake and give this to Uncle Teddy?"

Antha shrank back and looked uncertain, but Aunt Clara went on quickly, "He'll be wild when he finds he's forgotten it. Be careful that you don't get it wet going over." And she handed her the expensive instrument with an air of perfect confidence in her ability to take care of it.

"May I stay over there with Uncle Teddy and watch them take pictures?" asked Antha, for whom the time was beginning to lag now that the others were not on the island.

"Yes, certainly," said Aunt Clara. "I gave them plenty of lunch for three."

She started Antha out in the rowboat and then went back to her task of concocting a new and delightful Indian pudding. When the boys and girls came home to dinner she was glad she had stayed and made it, for their delight and appreciation amply repaid her for the trouble.

At four o'clock the Captain went for the mail and came home with Uncle Teddy and Mr. Evans. Uncle Teddy wore an expression of deepest disgust. "Of all the boneheaded things I ever did," he exclaimed as he stepped out on the dock, "today's job was the worst. Here I went off and left the camera behind, and not having any boat couldn't come back, so we just had to sit there all day and wait to be called for."

"But," gasped Aunt Clara, "I sent Antha after you with it just as soon as I found you had forgotten it. Didn't she bring it to you?"

"No," said Uncle Teddy. "We never saw a sign of her."

"Something must have happened to her!" cried Aunt Clara, starting up in dismay. "She went over before dinner. The lake was so smooth I thought it was perfectly safe. What could have happened?"

"Get into the launch, quick," said Uncle Teddy "and we'll go and look." Aunt Clara and Katherine and several more jumped in and they went off in feverish haste. Aunt Clara was almost prostrated at the thought that harm might have come to Antha from that errand. Around one of the numerous points which ran out into the water before you came to the Point of Pines they saw her, standing on a rock just underneath the surface, the water washing around her ankles. She was several hundred feet from the shore and the rowboat was nowhere to be seen. Her whole figure was tense from trying to cling to the slippery rock, and in her arms she was tightly clutching the camera. She fairly tumbled into the launch as it ran alongside her.

"What happened?" they all asked.

"The bottom came out of the boat," said Antha, "and it filled up with water and I got out on that rock and the boat sank."

"Which boat did you take?" asked Uncle Teddy.

"The small one," replied Antha.

"Good Lord," ejaculated Uncle Teddy. "That was the one with the loose board in the bottom! Why didn't I take it away from the others? What a narrow scrape you had! It was a mighty good thing for you that that rock was right there."

"And she stood there all day!"

"Why didn't you swim to shore?" asked Uncle Teddy. "You can keep up pretty well, and you would have struck shallow water pretty soon."

"Because I had the camera," said Antha, beginning to sob from exhaustion, "and I had—to—keep—it—dry!"

"You blessed lamb!" said Aunt Clara, and then choked and was unable to say any more.

"There!" exclaimed Katherine exultantly, when they were back home and Antha had been put to bed and fussed over. "Didn't I tell you she'd develop a backbone if the right occasion presented itself? The only thing she needed to bring it out was responsibility. Responsibility! That's the last thing anybody would have thought of putting on her. She's been babied and petted all her life and told what a poor, feeble creature she was until she believed it. People expected her to be a cry-baby and so she was one. We made the same mistake here. We've never asked her to do an equal share of the work, or made her responsible for a single thing. We were always afraid she couldn't do it. Now you see Aunt Clara made her responsible for that camera and took it for granted that she'd keep it dry and, of course, she did. I guess everybody would be a hero if somebody only expected them to."



CHAPTER XIII

OUT OF THE STORM

"Is there enough blue to make a Dutchman a pair of breeches?" asked Gladys, anxiously scanning the heavens. "If there is, it will clear up before noon."

"Well, there's enough to patch a pair, anyway," said Katherine, pointing to a minute scrap of blue showing through a jagged rent in a gray cloud.

"A patched pair is just as good as a new one," said Gladys with easy philosophy. "It's all right for us to go for a hike today, isn't it, Uncle Teddy?"

"Most any day is good for a hike, if you really want to go," answered Uncle Teddy cheerfully. "Don't I hear you girls singing:

"'We always think the weather's fine in sunshine or in snow?'"

"Oh, goody! I'm glad you think so," said Gladys.

"Mother always wants us to stay at home if it looks the least bit like rain and when we do it usually clears up after it's too late to start. We've all set our hearts on cutting those balsam branches today."

Uncle Teddy sniffed the air again and remarked that there was little rain in it, so with light hearts the expedition started out. Uncle Teddy took them across to the mainland. On this occasion there was an extra passenger in the launch. This was Sandhelo, with his feet carefully tied to prevent his exercising them unduly. He was to accompany the expedition and carry the balsam branches back to the shore. The lake was quite rough and more than once the water splashed inside the boat.

"Poor Sandhelo," said Hinpoha sympathetically. "Do you suppose he'll get seasick? He looks so pale."

"How does a donkey look when he's pale?" jeered Sahwah. "If you mean that white stuff on his nose, he stuck it into a pan of flour this morning. Anyway, I never heard of a donkey getting seasick."

"That doesn't prove that they can't," retorted Hinpoha.

But Sandhelo seemed none the worse for his journey when they set him ashore and trotted briskly along with the expedition. The balsam firs were deep in the woods and it took some time to find them. The wind seemed much stronger over here than it had been on Ellen's Isle—or else it had stiffened after they left. It roared through the treetops in a perfectly fascinating way and every little while they would stop and listen to it, laughing as the leafy skirt of some staid old birch matron went flying over her head.

"It seems like a million hungry lions roaring," said Hinpoha.

"Or the bad spirits of the air practising their football yells," said Sahwah.

"There goes my hat! Catch it, somebody!" cried Katherine.

The hat did some amazing loop-the-looping and settled on a high branch, whence it was retrieved by the Monkey with some little difficulty.

Gathering the balsam boughs was not such an idyllic process as they had expected. In the first place, they were blowing around at such a rate that it was hard to catch hold of them, and then when one was grasped firmly the others lashed out so furiously that they were driven back again and again. Furthermore, those which they did succeed in getting off were picked up by the gale and hurled broad-cast.

"It's too windy to do anything today," said Hinpoha crossly, retiring to the shelter of a wide trunk and holding her hands to her smarting face. Several stinging blows from a branch set with needles had dampened her enthusiasm for balsam pillows.

Some of the others stuck it out until they had as much as they wanted, and after an hour or more of strenuous labor Sandhelo was finally laden with his fragrant burden and the expedition started back.

Then they began to have their first real experience with wind. Going into the woods it had been been at their backs and they thought it great fun to be shoved along and to lean back against it like a supporting hand, but going against it was an entirely different matter. It was all they could do to stand on their feet and at times they simply could not move an inch forward. The roaring in the treetops seemed full of menace, and branches began to fall around them. Not far away a whole tree went down with a sounding crash.

"We're all going to be killed!" cried Gladys hysterically, as they huddled together at the sound of the falling tree. A wild blast that rang like the scream of an enraged beast came like an answer to her words, and a sapling maple snapped off like a toothpick. Sandhelo snorted with fear and began to kick out.

"We must get out of these woods as fast as we can," said the Captain, to whom the others had all turned for advice.

"You don't see any of us lingering to admire the scenery, do you?" asked Katherine drily.

Terrified almost out of their senses and expecting every minute to have a tree fall on them, they made their way toward the shore and came out spent and exhausted and too breathless to talk. But glad as they were to get out of the woods in safety, they were filled with dismay when they looked at the lake. To their excited eyes the waves, black as the sky above them, seemed mountain high.

"They'll never come for us in the launch in that," said Katherine after a few moments' silent gazing, voicing the fears of the others.

"We should never have started out on a day like this," said Hinpoha. "Why did you insist so on our coming, Gladys?"

"Well," Gladys defended herself, "Katherine said there was enough blue to patch the Dutchman's breeches and——"

"But it was you who said that was enough to start out on," retorted Katherine. "And you wanted the balsam boughs the worst, so it's your fault."

"Don't let's quarrel about who's fault it was," said the Captain. "None of us were obliged to come; we came because we wanted to. It's everybody's fault, and what is everybody's is nobody's. We're here now and we'll have to make the best of it."

"Maybe it will calm down before very long," said Gladys hopefully.

"Not much chance," said the Captain, "with the wind rising every minute."

There seemed nothing else to do but wait, so they crouched behind rocks to find shelter from the gale and tried to be patient. Every little while a dash of spray would find someone out and then there would be a shriek and a scramble for another rock higher up on the shore. Thus the afternoon wore away. It had been practically twilight since noon.

"What are you doing, Captain, admiring the view?" asked Slim, when the Captain had been looking out over the tossing lake for fully five minutes.

"Quite some view," said the Captain, who was deeply impressed by the ferocity of wind and wave, "but I was doing something besides admiring it. I was thinking that it won't do us much good to sit here any longer. The lake is getting rougher all the time and there is no hope of Uncle Teddy's being able to come for us tonight. I think the best thing to do would be to try to walk to St. Pierre, where we can find shelter."

"Would we be able to make it?" asked Hinpoha doubtfully, measuring the distance that lay between them and the little cluster of toy houses that shone ghostly white against the black sky. "It must be miles."

"Not quite three," replied the Captain. "We can make it. The wind will be coming from the side, so we won't be walking squarely against it."

They formed a line, each boy taking a girl by the arm, and struggled along the shore, keeping out of the woods as much as possible, and made slow but steady progress toward St. Pierre. It was during one of their frequent stops for breath that Sahwah, who had turned her head to look out over the wild water, suddenly screamed, "Look!"

"It's the Huronic!" gasped Hinpoha, her eyes following Sahwah's pointing finger.

Jammed up on a reef and completely at the mercy of the waves that battered against her side lay the great steamer that only a week before had swept so proudly through the channel. The beautiful white bird had its wings broken now, and drooping helplessly lay exposed to the full fury of the storm.

Hinpoha shrieked and covered her face with her hands. Horrified and fascinated, the others watched the waves dashing high over the tilting decks.

"Whe-e-e-w-w-w!" whistled the Captain.

"Can't we do something," said Sahwah, "run and tell somebody? Oh, don't stand here and see that boat go to pieces!"

"What can we do?" asked Hinpoha.

Before anybody could answer her question a brilliant light suddenly flared up a short distance ahead of them on the shore. "What's that?" asked Hinpoha in amazement.

"Beach patrol," explained the Captain. "That's the signal that he has sighted the ship. Now he'll run back to the life saving station that's about a mile beyond here opposite the mouth of the channel and tell them where the wreck is and they'll come and take the people off the ship. See him going there, along the shore?"

In the gray darkness which followed the flash of light they could just barely make out the figure of a man running.

"I don't see how he ever got that torch lit in this wind," said Hinpoha.

"That wasn't an ordinary torch," explained the Captain, eager to display his knowledge of life-saving methods. "That's what they call a Coston signal. It's a patent torch that flares up when you strike the cap against something hard. The life-saving crew back in the station see it and get the apparatus ready and the people on the ship see it and know they have been sighted and help is coming."

"Oh, I'm so glad," said Hinpoha in relieved tones. "Now the poor people on the boat won't be so frightened if they know they are going to be saved. It must be fine to be a life saver!"

"Maybe I'll be one when I grow up," said the Captain.

"Oh, how grand!" said Hinpoha admiringly. "We'll be so proud——" Then came a fiercer gust of wind and drowned the remainder of her sentence in its shriek, and they plodded on in silence, covering their faces to shield them from the whirling sand. Only a little way farther they came upon the beach patrol sitting on the ground and rubbing his knee.

"What's the matter?" they asked, pressing around.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed in astonishment, "what are you kids doing out on a night like this?"

"We're taking a walk," replied Sahwah and then giggled nervously when she thought how funny that must sound. "What's the matter?" she repeated.

"Tripped over a stone," replied the beach patrol, "and kinked my leg." He stifled a groan as he spoke.

"Are you badly hurt?" asked Hinpoha anxiously.

The man rose to his feet and limped resolutely on his way toward the station, but his progress was very slow. "Of all times to go lame!" he exclaimed in bitter vexation. "There's the Huronic out there on the reef with two hundred passengers on board and there's not a minute to lose!"

"We'll take the word to the station!" said the Captain promptly. "We can get there lots faster than you can."

"All right," said the beach patrol briefly. He wasted no words in this emergency when seconds were things of consequence, but made prompt use of the assistance which had apparently been sent from heaven in the nick of time. "Tell them she's struck on the reef off Sister Point," he directed.

"'On the reef off Sister Point,'" they all repeated, and started forward with as much speed as they could manage.

Then it seemed to them that the wind had shifted and was coming from the front. In spite of valiant efforts to keep on their feet they were blown against the rocks which strewed the shore, and bruised and battered mercilessly.

"I can't go any farther," gasped Antha at last, sinking wearily down behind a huge stump.

"Neither can I," said Migwan, who knew when she had reached the limit of her strength and realized that it would be folly to attempt to keep on to the station. Hinpoha had been panting in distress for some time, but had kept on gamely. But now she agreed with Migwan.

"All you girls get around behind that cliff," shouted the Captain at the top of his voice so as to make them hear, "and stay there until you're rested. We'll go on to the station."

Katherine and Sahwah stubbornly refused to be left; the other girls sought the shelter of the rock wall. Spurred on by the importance of their errand the nine struggled valiantly to make headway, but it was most discouraging work. At times it seemed as if they would be picked off their feet bodily and whirled into space.

"Every time I go forward one step I blow back two," panted Sahwah as they drew up in the shelter of a bluff to take a moment's breathing spell. "Aren't we nearly there?"

"Only about a quarter of the distance," said the Captain gloomily.

"I've an idea," said Katherine suddenly.

"What is it?" asked Sahwah.

"We're not getting to the station nearly as fast as we ought to," said Katherine, "and what's more, there's no hope of our going any faster on foot. I'll ride Sandhelo in. He's lots stronger than we are and can hold up against the wind where we can't. It's the only way we can get the word to the station in time. I didn't think of riding him before, because the beach was so rocky I was afraid he would break his leg in the dark, but from here it seems to be smooth."

However much the boys thought it was their duty to carry the message to the station rather than the girls', they saw the worth of Katherine's advice. They thought of the Huronic lying out on the reef, pounded by the waves, and gave in to her at once without discussion.

All this time Katherine had been leading Sandhelo because she could hang on to him and keep her balance when the wind threatened to sweep her off her feet.

"Get ready for business, now, old chap," she said to him. "It's time for your act." And, climbing on his back, she bent low over his neck and urged him forward with a cluck and a poke.

But Sandhelo chose this crisis to indulge in a return of his artistic temperament. Not an inch would he budge. "What shall I do?" wailed Katherine, when all her clucking and prodding had been in vain.

"Try riding him backward the way you did that day in the circus," screamed Sahwah.

Katherine whirled around on her stubborn mount and unexpectedly gave his tail a smart pull. With a snort of indignant surprise Sandhelo threw out his legs and started forward. Katherine caught her balance from the shock of starting, clamped her knees into his sides and hung on grimly to the blanket that had been strapped around his middle to keep the balsam boughs from pricking him.

Never was there a more grotesque ride for life. Instead of the beautiful heroine of fiction galloping on a noble steed here was a lanky girl riding backwards on a temperamental trick mule, hanging on as best she could, holding her breath as he pounded along in the darkness, expecting every moment that he would go down under her and praying fervently that he would not take it into his head to stop. But Sandhelo, under the impression that he was running away from something, kept on going from sheer fright, and as his early life had been spent waltzing on a revolving platform, he was able to keep a footing where any other steed would have broken his legs.

He would not even stop when they came to the life-saving station, and Katherine had to roll off as best she could, landing in the sand on her face.

"Whoa, there!" shouted half a dozen voices, and the surfmen who stood anxiously waiting for the return of the patrol caught his bridle and brought him to a standstill. Katherine panted out her message, and then refusing the invitation of the keeper to go inside the station, she followed the crew as they dragged the beach wagon to the point on the shore opposite the wreck.

From their various shelters along the way the rest of the Winnebagos came out and joined her, all eager to see the work of rescuing the stranded passengers.

Hinpoha exclaimed in dismay when the small cannon was brought out and aimed at the ship. "They're going to shoot the passengers!" she cried, clutching the Captain by the arm.

"No, they aren't," the Captain assured her hastily. "They're going to shoot the line out to the ship. That's the way they rig up the breeches-buoy. Now you watch. I'm going to see if I can help. That fellow with the twisted knee is out of it."

Without getting in the men's way, the Captain watched his chance, and when it came time to man the whip that hauled the breeches-buoy out to the vessel he took a hand with the crew and pulled lustily. After that he worked right along with the men and they were glad of his help, for the loss of the one surfman was holding them back. The other boys also did what they could to help, and the bringing to shore of the passengers proceeded as rapidly as possible.

The memory of that night was ever after like a confused dream in the minds of the Winnebagos and Sandwiches; a nightmare of howling wind and dashing waves and inky darkness out of which came ever increasing numbers of people to throng the shore.

The wrecking of a passenger vessel was a much more serious matter than the destruction of a freighter, where there would only be the crew to bring ashore. The Huronic carried two hundred passengers and as it was impossible for any boat to get alongside of her to take them off, they all had to be taken ashore in the breeches-buoy or the life car. Other lines were shot out after the first one and other rescue apparatus set up. From the position of her lights it could be seen that the Huronic was listing farther to the leeward all the time. The life savers worked untiringly and the throng of rescued grew apace.

Entirely forgetting their own fatigue from their long tramp against the wind, the Winnebagos and Sandwiches moved among the crowd, lending sweaters, coats and scarfs to shivering women, taking crying children in tow and finding their distracted parents, and doing a hundred and one little services that helped materially to bring a semblance of order out of the wild confusion.

Hinpoha had just restored a curly-haired three-year old to his hysterical mamma when a man came up to her and said, "Will you bring your flashlight over here, please? My wife has dropped her watch."

Hinpoha obligingly turned aside with him and approached a woman kneeling in the sand, searching. "This young lady will help you find it, Elizabeth," said the man.

"That's encouraging," replied the woman in a voice which made Hinpoha give a great start and hastily flash the little circle of light on her face. The next moment she flung herself bodily on top of her with a great shriek.

"Nyoda! Where on earth did you come from? Nyoda! Nyoda!"

"Hinpoha!" cried the young woman in the sand, clinging to her in amazement, while the man who had addressed Hinpoha gave vent to a long whistle.

"Why, it's the immortal redhead!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you in the dark at all."

"It's the first time anybody ever said they didn't know me in the dark," said Hinpoha, laughing. "I didn't know you either without that famous mustache. Sahwah!" she called. "Gladys! Come here quick!"

The Winnebagos had often pictured to themselves what their reunion with Nyoda would be like when she made them the faithfully promised visit the following year, but none of them had ever dreamed it would come so soon or be like this. In the feeble light of their pocket flashes they crowded around her, behind a point of the cliff which kept some of the wind away, and all talked at once as they bubbled over with joy at the meeting, and Sherry, against whom they had vowed eternal warfare for stealing their beloved guardian away, came in for his share of handshaking and rapturous greeting.

"Where were you going?" "What were you doing on the Huronic?" "Why didn't you let us know you were so near?" "Did you intend to stop?" "How does it feel to be shipwrecked?" "Were you scared when they took you off the boat?" asked six voices at once.

Nyoda laughed and threw up her hands in a gesture of protest. "Have mercy!" she pleaded. "Send up your questions in single file." Then she told how Sherry had been instructed to go to Chicago when they were up in Duluth and they had chosen to come down by water, and were having a most delightful trip on the Huronic when it was so rudely ended by the storm. Her tale was somewhat disconnected, for she was constantly being interrupted by outbursts of delight at seeing her again and anxious inquiries as to whether she was cold, all more or less accompanied by caresses.

During one of these pauses, when she was being nearly smothered in a mackinaw by the over-solicitous Hinpoha, a voice was heard nearby, saying, "First we see Jim's signal light go off and we knowed there was a wreck somewhere. We was wondering why he didn't come back to report when all of a sudden up comes a reg'lar giraffe of a girl on board an imitation mule. She was sittin' facin' the stern an' listin' hard to starboard. She tries to make port in front of the station, but the mule he heads into the wind an' she jumps overboard."

The Winnebagos shouted with laughter at this description of Katherine's arrival at the station with the great news. "Sh-h, maybe he'll tell some more," said Sahwah, trying to quiet the others down. But the loquacious surfman had moved out of earshot and they heard no more of his tale.

Another voice was speaking now, a crisp voice that held a note of impatience. "No conveyance available to take me to St. Pierre? How annoying! How far did you say it was? Two miles? In this wind——"

The voice broke off, but the speaker moved forward toward the little group behind the bluff. Just then a searchlight that had been set up on the beach fell upon him. It was Judge Dalrymple.

"Papa!" cried Antha, starting up.

The judge whirled around, startled. "Where did you come from?" he asked.

Antha dragged him over to the rest and then there were more exclamations of astonishment that the judge had also been a victim of the wreck.

The night wore away while all the adventures were being told, and the gray dawn saw the last of the rescued passengers finding their friends and relatives in the crowd, while the surfmen gathered up their paraphernalia and piled it into the beach wagon. The wind was abating its force and a weary-eyed procession was setting out in the direction of St. Pierre.

The Winnebagos and Sandwiches were a procession all to themselves, led by the stately judge with a twin hanging on each arm. Behind him came Nyoda and the adoring Winnebagos like Diana surrounded by her maidens, while Katherine stalked in the rear of the parade leading the angel-faced Sandhelo, on whose back she had set a tired youngster.

"What a terrible, wicked wind that was," said Gladys, looking from the wreck of the magnificent Huronic to the uprooted trees lying everywhere along the edge of the woods.

"But it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good," said Hinpoha, as she embraced Nyoda for the hundred and nineteenth time.



CHAPTER XIV

THE TRAIL OF THE SEVEN CEDARS

"There's no use talking, we Winnebagos simply weren't meant to be separated," said Nyoda, smiling around at the circle of happy faces. "It seems that the very elements are in league to throw us into each other's paths."

They were all back on Ellen's Isle. By noon of the day following the storm they were able to cross the end of the lake in a launch from St. Pierre and relieve the hearts of the anxious watchers on the island. Nyoda and Sherry were easily persuaded to stop and spend a few days on Ellen's Isle now that their trip was interrupted, and the judge, having finished the business which brought him to St. Pierre, took occasion to run over and stay awhile with the twins.

Nyoda was dragged from one end of the island to the other and shown its wonders, from the innocent little spring which was the cause of their being there to the much enduring Eeny-Meeny on her pedestal. Over the adventures of the latter she laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks.

"Those are such typically Winnebago stunts," she declared. "Who except one of us would have seen the tremendous possibilities in a wooden Indian, and who but a Winnebago could have thought up such a thing as the Dark of the Moon Society?"

The every-member-a-chief idea interested her mightily, and she was anxious to hear how it had worked out. "Fine," said Sahwah, "but I guess Uncle Teddy was really the Big Chief after all, even if he did make us think we were doing everything by ourselves. The other Chiefs generally asked his advice about things—I know I did. But we did think out more things for ourselves this way than we would have if we thought he was looking out for everything."

"And it was pretty exciting, sometimes, and full of surprises," said Gladys. "Remember the morning Katherine got us up at half past three for crew practice? That never would have happened if Uncle Teddy had blown the rising horn all summer."

"Come and see the war canoe," said Sahwah, tugging at Nyoda to get her started in a new direction. "We named it after you. See the name painted on the bows?"

"What did I ever do that I should have a war canoe named after me?" asked Nyoda, overcome by the honor.

Somebody called Katherine away then, and Nyoda said to the others, "You were telling me about Katherine's having such a tremendous fit of the blues some time ago. Tell me, is she having one now? She seems changed somehow since last June. Isn't she feeling well?"

And then they told her how Katherine's plans to go to college had been shipwrecked and that she was going back to her home on the farm when the summer was over. Nyoda listened sympathetically, and as soon as she could she sought out Katherine and led her away for a walk with her alone. In the long, intimate talk which followed she made her see that this disappointment was an opportunity and not a calamity; an opportunity to develop strength of character which would enable her to surmount whatever difficulties would lie in her path through life. She testified to her that the lives of most great people showed they had become great, not because of the opportunities which were strewn in their paths, but because of the obstacles they had overcome.

Katherine nodded dumbly. "But, how am I going to 'pass on the light that has been given to me,' if I am to be away from people?" she said sadly after a moment.

"By doing the duty that lies nearest you," replied Nyoda, pressing her shoulder with a gentle hand. "You can be just as much of a Torch Bearer at home as anywhere. I know the prospect seems empty, even with the knowledge that you are doing your duty. By all the tokens, your place in life seems to be out in the busy world, rubbing elbows with people on all sides. Your great dream of social settlement work seemed one which was destined to be fulfilled with singular success. But, my dear, remember this, no success in life is worth as much as a happy home and a loving father and mother, and in taking over the task of home-making you have undertaken the greatest and noblest piece of work that any woman can do. If you succeed in making home happy your life will not be wasted and your torch will shine undimmed."

"I hadn't thought about it in that way before," said Katherine slowly. "You see, I had spent my whole life waiting for the day when I could get away from home and get out among educated people. My one dream as long as I can remember has been college in the East, and I spent every minute studying. I never cared how the house looked or how anything went on the farm. I just lived in my books, and in day dreams of the future. That's what makes it so hard to go back now. Oh, I was going back all right, I never thought for a moment of not going, but I don't believe I was planning to be very happy about it. Now I see the meaning of the Camp Fire Girls' law, 'Be happy.' It doesn't mean be happy when everything is coming your way, but in spite of everything when things are going wrong. Just so when we learned to say, 'For I will bring ... my joy and sorrow to the fire.' There is more than one way to make a fire. If you haven't a joyful match handy to scratch and make an instant blaze, you can start one with the slow rubbing sticks of sorrow. But either one will kindle the torch that you can pass on to others. I see it now!"

"You certainly have put it in a nutshell!" said Nyoda.

"So now I'm going home," continued Katherine, "and tackle the housekeeping the way I used to go at my lessons. I'm going to make that old shack that was always a blot on the landscape such a marvel of beauty that it won't know itself. I'm going to begin right there to seek beauty and give service and pursue knowledge and be trustworthy and glorify work, and above all, I'm going to Be Happy. Thank you so much, Nyoda, for telling me the things you did. You've straightened everything out for me, the way you always do."

"Spoken like a true Winnebago!" said Nyoda, gripping her hand. "I knew you wouldn't show the white feather. Now I must go. Don't you hear Sherry calling me? Never get married, my dear, if you wish to be mistress of your own time!"

After that confidential talk with Nyoda Katherine's soul was once more serene and the old spring was back in her step and the characteristic air of enthusiasm about everything she did. Once more the future seemed full of possibilities.

That night Nyoda gathered the Winnebagos together for a confidential council meeting. "Well, Torch Bearer," she asked, "how goes the torch bearing?"

"We haven't had a chance to try it on anybody yet," said Hinpoha, "except Antha. We really and truly didn't want her here this summer at all until Katherine said she would be an opportunity instead of a nuisance." Here Nyoda smiled radiantly in Katherine's direction in the darkness. What a faculty that girl had for seeing possibilities, whether in wooden Indians or spoiled children!

"And so you found out that it was worth while to have her here after all," said Nyoda, beaming upon them when they had finished. "Well, I should say you had been making very fair headway, indeed. So far only one opportunity has presented itself and you have made the most of that. You're one hundred per cent efficient on that basis. I'm proud of you."

How glad they were then that they had "put up" with Antha! Somewhere in the back of each one's head there lurked the suspicion that Nyoda must have "put up" with them considerably, back in the days when she first became their Guardian.

"I think we ought to set our seal on all our 'little sisters,'" said Katherine, speaking with her old animation. "Why not make Antha an 'associate member' of the Winnebagos? Then we'd never lose interest in her."

"Good idea," said Nyoda heartily. "Let's have a ceremonial meeting right away and make her officially one of us."

No sooner said than done, and a council fire was kindled on the beach and in the presence of the whole company Antha was made a Winnebago with full ceremony—a thing they never would have dreamed of at the beginning of the summer.

"This is going to be our last week on Ellen's Isle," said Sahwah rather dolefully at the breakfast table the next morning. "We want to pack it as full of good times as we can."

All the Winnebagos and Sandwiches set down their cups with a dismayed bang. While they were perfectly aware of the flight of time they had not begun to think seriously about going home. It seemed incredible, how near at hand the time actually was.

But when Sahwah had finished speaking Mr. Evans raised his voice. "I wasn't going to tell you until council meeting tonight," he said in a tone which betrayed a coming surprise. "But the way things have worked out I do not have to be back in the city until after the first week in September, so we can stay one week longer than we had planned."

He tried to make some further remarks, but they were lost in the cheer that followed his announcement. To the enthusiastic campers that extra week seemed like an endless amount of time.

"You will stay with us, Nyoda?" pleaded Hinpoha, and Nyoda smilingly assured her that she and Sherry had already been invited to stay on and were going to accept because the business conference Sherry was to attend in Chicago had been postponed for a week. Judge Dalrymple also promised to stay until the twins went home.

"But who'll be Chiefs that extra week?"

"Antha and Anthony," said Katherine promptly. "They've both proven themselves responsible."

And without waiting to go into formal meeting the family council approved the appointment, to the infinite amazement of the judge, who had never looked upon the twins as anything but very small and irresponsible children. He listened unbelievingly to the tale of Antha and the camera.

"She's got grit!" he exclaimed exultingly to Mr. Evans and Uncle Teddy. "She's got grit! I thought she hadn't a speck. She's a Dalrymple after all! Praise be, she's got grit!" He seemed more pleased about the fact that she had grit than if she had possessed all the virtues of the saints.

"She's learned to swim, too! How did you ever do it? I knew it would be the making of her to send her here for the summer. And Anthony, too, you've done something to him. Why, he calls me 'sir' every time he speaks to me! He actually says 'sir!' That's something he never did in his life before. And where he used to choose the worst boys he could find for companions he seems to have learned to pick the best out of the lot. He thinks there's no one in the world like that St. John boy; wants me to give him our old yacht. Seems to have stopped bragging, too; that used to be his besetting sin."

Uncle Teddy smiled reminiscently at this, and then, acting upon a sudden impulse, he told the judge how the boys had cured Anthony of boasting by forcing him to make good his words.

"So it took a lesson like that to do it?" said the judge. "Well, I guess you're right. He ought to have had it long ago, only I've never had a chance to do anything like that to him. His mother would have interfered. You know how it is." He broke off with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I can't thank you enough for taking care of them this summer," he said earnestly.

Then Mr. Evans told him just how Katherine had influenced the Council to consent to the coming of the twins. "So it was Katherine that did it," said the judge. "I am deeply in her debt. Do you happen to know of anything she would like to have particularly? I would like to show my appreciation in some way."

"I don't know of anything special she wants," said Mr. Evans, "except——" And briefly he told the judge about Katherine's home troubles.

"Do you suppose she would take the money to go to college?" asked the judge.

Mr. Evans shook his head. "I'm afraid she won't. I offered it to her myself. It seems that her mother is sick and her father is much discouraged and they want her at home to look after things. It was her own decision to go; she is determined to make the sacrifice for their sakes. It is a noble one, you must admit, and I would feel delicate about influencing her to do otherwise."

"Hm," said the judge. "No use offering her money then. But, by the way—what did you say was the name of the company that her father sank his money in?"

"Pacific Refining Company," said Mr. Evans.

"H-m-m-m," said the judge. "I happen to know a little about that company. Peculiar case, very. Seemed sound as a rock, yet it failed through bad management. But I happen to know that if it were backed by somebody of good repute and put into the hands of an able manager it would pull through and pay dividends. Trouble is nobody wants to sink any more money in it. Possibly I could arrange to back it—Hm. I'll see what can be done. Not a word to the girl about this, you understand, there's nothing certain about it."

Then Antha's voice was heard calling for her father and away he went, leaving Mr. Evans and Uncle Teddy staring breathless after the man who proposed to revive dead ventures as casually as if he were talking about putting up screens.

"What are we going to do with Eeny-Meeny when we go home?" asked Gladys. That was a question nobody was prepared to answer offhand.

"Take her home and put her in the House of the Open Door," said Sahwah.

"But hardly any of us will be there to see her," objected Hinpoha, "and, anyway, it's cruelty to dumb Indians to take them away from their native woods and shut them up in houses. I know Eeny-Meeny wouldn't be happy there. I think we ought to leave her here on Ellen's Isle."

Then it was that Katherine had another inspiration. "I've got a plan worth two of that," she said, beginning to giggle in anticipation. "Let's bury her at the base of the rock in the ravine, and then mark the rock so mysteriously that somebody who comes after us will fall for it and dig up the earth. You're good at that sort of thing, Hinpoha, you carve some fearful and wonderful things on that rock. Won't they get a shock, though, when they come to Eeny-Meeny?" In their mind's eye they could all see the sensation caused by the discovering of Eeny-Meeny possibly years hence at the base of the rock, and the prank appealed to them irresistibly.

Of course, the mention of the rock in the ravine brought out the story of the Trail of the Seven Cedars and the fruitless search for Indian relics. The judge listened to the tale with a peculiar expression of interest. "By the way," he said casually, when they had finished, "did you know that I happen to own that stretch of land?"

The Winnebagos and Sandwiches were much taken aback. "Do you mind awfully, because we dug up the ground?" asked Gladys. "Why didn't you tell us your father owned the land?" she said, turning reproachfully to the twins.

"We didn't know it," said Antha, "but I don't think papa minds our digging it up, do you, Papa?"

"Not in the least," said the judge, chuckling. "And I think it would be the best joke in the world to 'plant' Eeny-Meeny at the base of the rock. Some time or other that land will be sold, and I will see to it that hints are dropped to whoever buys it that there are Indian relics on the premises and they are invariably found at the bases of marked rocks. That's the best joke I've heard in years. Katherine, you're a genius. That idea of yours was surely inspired."

So the Principal Diversion for the last week was the burial of Eeny-Meeny. After elaborate farewell ceremonies had been held over her on Ellen's Isle she was put into a canoe and towed across the lake, then taken out and carried along the Trail of the Seven Cedars to the ravine. All the family went along to see the fun and take part in the last rites. But at the entrance to the ravine there was a ripple of astonishment. The cedar tree which had stood half way up the side, the largest and oldest of the seven, had been uprooted by the storm and lay at length in the bottom of the ravine. Where it had been there was a great gaping hole in the hillside. Numbers of rocks had come down with it and rolled into the excavation made by the boys and girls, carrying with them great quantities of earth, so that it was no longer an open pit. The whole appearance of the ravine had been changed by the falling of the tree.

The funeral party paused, uncertain whether to go to the work of taking the rocks out of Eeny-Meeny's grave or dig a new one somewhere else. While they stood around and talked it over Slim grew weary and went up the hillside to sit down in the hollow left by the roots of the tree, which looked to him like a comfortable seat. He settled himself heavily, but no sooner had he done so than the ground broke away under him and he disappeared with a yell.

"Where are you?" cried the rest in amazement, running to the spot.

"Inside the hill," came Slim's voice from beyond the hole. "There's a cave here and I'm in it."

"Are you hurt?" they called.

"No," he answered.

"I'm coming in to look at the cave," said Sahwah, and she crawled carefully through the hole which had been much widened by Slim's breaking through, and dropped down beside him. After her came the others, one by one, all anxious to see this chamber in the hillside. It was about as large as an ordinary sized room, the walls all rock, dripping with the dampness of ages. Katherine, blundering about in the darkness, which was only partly relieved by the flashlights, walked into something wet and cold. At her startled exclamation the others hurried over into the far corner with her and their flashlights shone on a good sized pool of water in the floor of the cave. It was being fed by a stream which came steadily through a fissure between two rocks. At one end of the pool the water flowed out into a hole in the ground and was lost to view.

"It's a spring!" said Gladys. "I thought I heard water in here when we came down."

Mr. Evans dipped a pocket cup into the clear water and took a drink. "It's a mineral spring!" he exclaimed in great excitement. "The same as the one on Ellen's Isle. But the size of it! There's a fortune in it for you, Judge. Think of the gallons of water that are flowing by some underground passage into the lake without ever coming to the surface! That's the prettiest case of poetic justice I've ever come across, finding this spring on your land. Now you can go ahead and organize a new mineral water company that will have a real spring for a basis."

"I'll do it!" said the judge, "and all those who had stock in the old one will have first chance at this. What a lucky accident! I told you that idea of Katherine's to bring Eeny-Meeny to the ravine was inspired."

"Now I know the meaning of the arrow on the rock!" said Sahwah when they were all outside the cave again. "You see, it points directly toward the hillside where those rocks came rolling down. Somebody found that cave and the spring and marked the spot so they could come back again, and then they never came back and it went on being a secret."

"Now, Miss Katherine," said Hinpoha, "was it so terribly silly after all to think that mark meant something?"

And Katherine cheerfully admitted that it wasn't.

Hinpoha went on. "Captain," she said, "didn't you say you dreamed about water when you were fasting?"

"That's what I did," said the Captain.

"There!" said Hinpoha triumphantly. "You had a 'token' after all!"

And nobody could deny the fact.

"But if you're not going to sell the land, as, of course, you won't, there won't be any use in burying Eeny-Meeny," said Katherine in comical dismay.

"Eeny-Meeny wasn't born to be buried in the ground," said Gladys. "Once more she has been rescued on the brink of death. If she wants to stay with us as badly as all that, I think we might take her home and put her in the House of the Open Door."

"I think," said Nyoda with twinkling eyes, "that Eeny-Meeny obstinately refuses to be disposed of because she wants to stay with Katherine. Don't you want to take her home with you, Katherine, for a good luck omen? She seems to bring good fortune to whoever has her. And she'll keep you from getting lonely."

So it was decided that Eeny-Meeny was to go home with Katherine to Spencer, Arkansas, "to live with her and be her love," as Katherine poetically expressed it.

With fetes and feasts and celebrations of all kinds the last week passed, and almost before they knew it that time had actually come to pack up. Full of surprises as the summer had been, there was yet one more on the program. It came on the second last day. Going down to the beach in the morning for the bathing hour they saw, anchored out in the lake near the island, a good-sized steam yacht, splendid with the morning sun shining on her white sides and fluttering flags.

"Where did it come from?"

The twins were falling all over themselves with joy and pride. "It's our yacht, the Sea Gull," they shouted. "Did you have it come to take us home, Papa?"

"Not only you, but all these folks," said the judge.

"Oh, not really," protested Mr. Evans, "think of the distance!"

"Nothing at all, nothing at all," the judge replied. "I would be most happy to make some slight return for your gracious hospitality."

The Winnebagos and Sandwiches were delighted beyond measure at the thought of going home in such grand style, and much as they had dreaded the moment of leaving before, they could hardly wait for it now.

"I've been sent home in people's automobiles lots of times," said Hinpoha, "but just fancy being taken home hundreds of miles in a yacht! Doesn't it make you dizzy, though?"

In spite of the delight of steaming away on the spick and span yacht, there was heartfelt regret in every wave of the hand that bade farewell to Ellen's Isle, when the hour of leaving came, and never had it seemed fairer than when they looked upon its wooded height for the last time. Out in the channel they passed the lighthouse where the Hares had put their heads into the noose, and there was much laughter as they recounted the story for Nyoda's benefit. Still farther on was the reef where the Huronic had met her fate; the salvage crews were still at work on her. In the clear sunshine and with the calm waters dimpling around them it seemed impossible to believe that this was the same lake that had worked itself into such an ungovernable fury but a short time before.

The Sea Gull was as swift as her white namesake, and flew over the sparkling lake like a real gull. So taken up were the Winnebagos and Sandwiches with the appointments of the yacht and such fun they had going anywhere they pleased on board by day or night, that before they knew it they were in the harbor of Detroit where Katherine and Nyoda and Sherry were to be set ashore to finish their respective journeys by train.

With Katherine went Eeny-Meeny, nicely crated, to be a companion for her loneliness, as well as Sandhelo, who, by vote of council, was awarded to her because the others would no longer be able to take care of him, and because he had always had more of an affinity for Katherine than for any of the others. It was the fun they had over Eeny-Meeny and Sandhelo that made the parting less difficult. Katherine was the most hilarious of any. Grasping her umbrella by the bottom, she recited a husky poem to the effect that

"Their parting was sad, but not tearful, It happened at four by the clock, The sail-aways tried to be cheerful, And the stay-ashores tried to be keerful, So's not to get shoved off the dock!"

"We'll all be together again some time, I feel it in my bones," said Hinpoha cheerily. "You just can't separate us Winnebagos."

Farewells were being said on all sides. "Good-bye, Nyoda! Remember the visit you're going to make us next summer!"

"Good-bye, Sandhelo!" "Good-bye, Eeny-Meeny!" "Good-bye, Uncle Teddy!"

Antha clung to Katherine, sobbing. "Good-bye, little sister of all the Winnebagos!" said Katherine, gently loosening the child's hands from her neck.

Then somebody touched her on the shoulder, and, turning, she saw Slim beside her. He put something into her hands. It was a big bag of peanuts. "Eat them on the way," he said.

"You're a sport!" said Katherine, laughing, and holding out her free hand to be shaken for the last time.

The good-byes were all said and the yacht began to back away from the dock. Katherine looked after it with hungry eyes as it steamed away into the sunset, carrying with it the friends that had meant to her all that was bright and happy about her school days. She looked until the waving handkerchiefs were a blur in the distance, and the white form of the Sea Gull itself faded from view.

Then she squared her shoulders, held up her head, and grasping the umbrella as if it were the sword Excalibur, turned and followed Nyoda across the dock toward the railway station.

THE END



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THE END