Three times every week Migwan had been making the trip to town with a
machine-load of vegetables, which was disposed of to an ever growing
list of customers. Thanks to the early start the garden had been given
by Mr. Mitchell, and the constant care it received at the hands of
Migwan and her willing helpers, Migwan always managed to bring out her
produce a day or so in advance of most of the other growers in the
neighborhood and so could command a better price at first than she could
have if she had arrived on the scene at flood tide. After every trip
there was a neat little sum to put in the old cocoa can which Migwan
used as a bank until there was enough accumulated to make a real bank
deposit. The asparagus had passed beyond its vegetable days and had
grown up in tall feathery shoots that made a pretty sight as they stood
in a long row against the fence. The new strawberry plants had taken
root and were growing vigorously; the cucumbers were thriving like fat
babies. The squashes and melons were running a race, as Sahwah said, to
see which could hold up the most fruit on their vines; the corn-stalks
stood straight and tall, holding in their arms their firstborn, silky
tassel-capped children, like proud young fathers.
But it was the tomato bed in which Migwan’s dearest hopes were bound up.
The frames sagged with exhaustion at the task of holding up the weight
of crimsoning globes that hung on the vines. Migwan tended this bed as a
mother broods over a favorite child, fingering over the leaves for
loathsome tomato worms, spraying the plants to keep away diseases, and
cultivating the ground around the roots. All suckers were ruthlessly
snipped off as soon as they grew, so that the entire strength of the
plants could go into the ripening of tomatoes. For it was on that tomato
bed that Migwan’s fortune depended. While the proceeds from the
remainder of the garden were gratifying, they were not great enough to
make up the sum which Migwan needed to go to college, as the vegetables
were not raised in large enough quantities. Migwan carefully estimated
the amount she would realize from the sale of the tomatoes and found
that it would not be large enough, and decided she could make more out
of them by canning them. At Nyoda’s advice the Winnebagos formed
themselves into a Canning Club, which would give them the right to use
the 4H label, which stood for Head, Hand, Health and Heart, and was
recognized by dealers in various places. According to the methods of the
Canning Club they canned the tomatoes in tin cans, with tops neatly
soldered on. After an interview with various hotels and restaurants in
the city Nyoda succeeded in establishing a market for Migwan’s goods,
and the canning went on in earnest. The whole family were pressed into
service, and for days they did nothing but peel from morning until
night.
“I’m getting to be such an expert peeler,” said Hinpoha, “that I
automatically reach out in my sleep and start to peel Migwan.”
Nyoda made up a gay little song about the peeling. To the tune of
“Comrades, comrades, ever since we were boys,” she sang, “Peeling,
peeling, ever since 6 A.M.”
Several places had asked for homemade ketchup and Migwan prepared to
supply the demand. Never did a prize housekeeper, making ketchup for a
county fair, take such pains as Migwan did with hers. She took care to
use only the best spices and the best vinegar; she put in a few peach
leaves from the tree to give it a finer flavor; she stood beside the big
iron preserving kettle and stirred the mixture all the while it was
boiling to be sure that it would not settle and burn. Everyone in the
house had to taste it to be sure it found favor with a number of
critical palates. “Wouldn’t you like to put a few bay leaves into it?”
asked her mother. “There are some in the glass jar in the pantry. They
are all crumbled and broken up fine, but they are still good.” Migwan
put a spoonful of the broken leaves into the ketchup; then she put
another.
“Oh, I never was so tired,” she sighed, when at last it had boiled long
enough and she shoved it back.
“Let’s all go out on the river,” proposed Nyoda, “and forget our toil
for awhile.” Sahwah was the last out of the kitchen, having stopped to
drink a glass of water, and while she was drinking her eye roved over
the table and caught sight of half a dozen cloves that had spilled out
of a box. Gathering them up in her hand she dropped them into the
ketchup. Just then Migwan came back for something and the two went out
together.
“And now for the bottling,” said Migwan, when the supper dishes were put
away, and she set several dozen shining glass bottles on the table.
After she had been dipping up the ketchup for awhile she paused in her
work to sit down for a few moments and count up her expected profits.
“Let’s see,” she said, “forty bottles at fifteen cents a bottle is six
dollars. That isn’t so bad for one day’s work. But I hope I don’t have
many days of such work,” she added. “My back is about broken with
stirring.” About thirty of the bottles were filled and sealed when she
took this little breathing spell.
“Let me have a taste,” said Hinpoha, eyeing the brown mixture longingly.
“Help yourself,” said Migwan. Hinpoha took a spoonful. Her face drew up
into the most frightful puckers. Running to the sink she took a hasty
drink of water. “What’s the matter?” said Migwan, viewing her in alarm.
“Did you choke on it?”
“Taste it!” cried Hinpoha. “It’s as bitter as gall.”
Migwan took a taste of the ketchup and looked fit to drop. “Whatever is
the matter with it?” she gasped. One after another the girls tasted it
and voiced their mystification. “It couldn’t have spoiled in that short
time,” said Migwan.
Then she suddenly remembered having seen Sahwah drop something into the
kettle as it stood on the back of the stove. Could it be possible that
Sahwah was seeking revenge for having been made fun of? “Sahwah,” she
gasped, unbelievingly, “did you put anything into the ketchup that made
it bitter?”
“I did not,” said Sahwah, the indignant color flaming into her face. She
had already forgotten the incident of the cloves. She saw Nyoda and the
other girls look at her in surprise at Migwan’s words. Her temper rose
to the boiling point. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, fiercely.
“You think I did something to the ketchup to get even with Migwan, but I
didn’t, so there. I don’t know any more about it than you do.”
“I take it all back,” said Migwan, alarmed at the tempest she had set
astir, and bursting into tears buried her head on her arms on the
kitchen table. All that work gone for nothing!
Sahwah ran from the room in a fearful passion. Nyoda tried to comfort
Migwan. “It’s a lucky thing we found it before the stuff was sold,” she
said, “or your trade would have been ruined.” She and the other girls
threw the ketchup out and washed the bottles.
“Whatever could have happened to it?” said Gladys, wonderingly.
Migwan lifted her face. “I want to tell you something, Nyoda,” she said.
“I suppose you wonder why I asked Sahwah if she had put anything in.
Well, when I went back into the kitchen after my hat when we were going
out on the river, Sahwah was there, and she was dropping something into
the kettle.”
“You don’t mean it?” said Nyoda, incredulously. Nyoda understood
Sahwah’s blind impulses of passion, and she could not help noticing for
the last few days that Sahwah was still nursing her wrath at Migwan for
laughing at her, and she wondered if she could have lost control of
herself for an instant and spoiled the ketchup.
Meanwhile Sahwah, up-stairs, had cooled down almost as rapidly as she
had flared up, and began to think that she had been a little hasty in
her outburst. She, therefore, descended the back stairs with the idea of
making peace with the family and helping to wash the bottles. But
halfway down the stairs she happened to hear Migwan’s remark and Nyoda’s
answer, and the long silence which followed it. Immediately her fury
mounted again to think that they suspected her of doing such an
underhand trick. “They don’t trust me!” she cried, over and over again
to herself. “They don’t believe what I said; they think I did it and
told a lie about it.” All night she tossed and nursed her sense of
injury and by morning her mind was made up. She would leave this place
where everyone was against her, and where even Nyoda mistrusted her.
That was the most unkind cut of all.
When she did not appear at the breakfast table the rest began to wonder.
Betty reported that Sahwah had not been in bed when she woke up, which
was late, and she thought she had risen and dressed and gone down-stairs
without disturbing her. There was no sign of her in the garden or on the
river. Both the rowboat and the raft were at the landing-place. There
was an uncomfortable restraint at the breakfast table. Each one was
thinking of something and did not want the others to see it. That thing
was that Sahwah had a guilty conscience and was afraid to face the
girls. Migwan’s eyes filled with tears when she thought how her dear
friend had injured her. A blow delivered by the hand of a friend is so
much worse than one from an enemy. The table was always set the night
before and the plates turned down.
“What’s this sticking out under Sahwah’s plate?” asked Gladys. It was a
note which she opened and read and then sat down heavily in her chair.
The rest crowded around to see. This was what they read: “As long as you
don’t trust me and think I do underhand things you will probably be glad
to get rid of me altogether. Don’t look for me, for I will never come
back. You may give my place in the Winnebagos to someone else.” It was
signed “Sarah Ann Brewster,” and not the familiar “Sahwah.”
“Sahwah’s run away!” gasped Migwan in distress, and the girls all ran up
to her room. Her clothes were gone from their hooks and her suit-case
was gone from under the bed. The girls faced each other in
consternation.
“Do you think she had anything to do with the ketchup, after all?” asked
Gladys, thoughtfully. “It was so unlike her to do anything of that
kind.”
“Then why did she run away?” asked Migwan, perplexed.
The morning passed miserably. They missed Sahwah at every turn. Several
times the girls forgot themselves and sang out “O Sahwah!” Nyoda did not
doubt for a moment that Sahwah had gone to her own home, but she thought
it best not to go after her immediately. Sahwah’s hot temper must cool
before she would come to herself. Nyoda was puzzled at her conduct. If
she had nothing to be ashamed of why had she run away? That was the
question which kept coming up in her mind. Nothing went right in the
house or the garden that day. Everyone was out of sorts. Migwan
absent-mindedly pulled up a whole row of choice plants instead of weeds;
Gladys ran the automobile into a tree and bent up the fender; Hinpoha
slammed the door on her finger nail; Nyoda burnt her hand. Ophelia was
just dressed for the afternoon in a clean, starched white dress when she
fell into the river and had to be dressed over again from head to foot.
The whole household was too cross for words. The departure of Sahwah was
the first rupture that had ever occurred in the closely linked ranks of
the Winnebagos and they were all broken up over it.
When Mrs. Gardiner was cooking beef for supper she told Migwan to get
her some bay leaf to flavor it with. Migwan brought out the glass jar of
crushed leaves. “That’s not the bay leaf,” said her mother, and went to
look for it herself. “Here it is,” she said, bringing another glass jar
down from a higher shelf.
“Then what’s this?” asked Migwan, indicating the first jar.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “It was in the
pantry when we came.”
“But this was what I put into the ketchup,” said Migwan. Hastily
unscrewing the top she shook out some of the contents and tasted them.
Her mouth contracted into a fearful pucker. Never in her life had she
tasted anything so bitter.
“I did it myself,” she said, in a dazed tone. “I spoiled the ketchup
myself.” At her shout the girls came together in the kitchen to hear the
story of the mistaken ingredient.
“What can that be?” they all asked. Nobody knew. It was some dried herb
that had been left by the former mistress of the house, and a powerful
one. The girls looked at each other blankly.
“And I accused Sahwah of doing it,” said Migwan, remorsefully. “No
wonder she flared up and left us, I don’t blame her a bit. I wouldn’t
thank anyone for accusing me wrongfully of anything like that.”
“We’ll have to go after her this very evening,” said Gladys, “and bring
her back.”
“If she’ll come,” said Hinpoha, knowing Sahwah’s proud spirit.
“Oh, I’m quite willing to grovel in the dust at her feet,” said Migwan.
Gladys drove them all into town with her and they sped to the Brewster
house. It was all dark and silent. Sahwah was evidently not there. They
tried the neighbors. They all denied that she had been near the house.
They finally came to this conclusion themselves, for in the light of the
street lamp just in front of the house they could see that the porch was
covered with a month’s accumulation of yellow dust which bore no
footmarks but their own.
Here was a new problem. They had come expecting to offer profuse
apologies to Sahwah and carry her back with them to Onoway House
rejoicing, and it was a shock to find her gone. The thought of letting
her go on believing that they mistrusted her was intolerable, but how
were they going to clear matters up? Sahwah had no relatives in town,
and, of course, they did not know all her friends, so it would be hard
to find her. That is, if she had ever reached town at all. Something
might have happened to her on the way—Nyoda and Gladys sought each
other’s eyes and each thought of what had happened to them on the way to
Bates Villa.
With heavy hearts they rode back to Onoway House. The days went by
cheerlessly. A week passed since Sahwah had run away, but no word came
from her. Nyoda interviewed the conductors on the interurban car line to
find out if Sahwah had taken the car into the city. No one remembered a
girl of that description on the day mentioned. Sahwah had only one hat—a
conspicuous red one—and she would not fail to attract attention.
Thoroughly alarmed, Nyoda decided on a course of action. She called up
the various newspapers in town and asked them to print a notice to the
effect that Sahwah had disappeared. If Sahwah were in town she would see
it and knowing that they were worried about her would let them know
where she was. The notice came out in the papers, and a day or two
passed, but there was no word from Sahwah. Nyoda and Gladys made a
hurried trip to town to put the police on the track. Just before they
got to the city limits they had a blowout and were delayed some time
before they could go on. As they waited in the road another machine came
along and the driver stopped and offered assistance. Nyoda recognized a
friend of hers in the machine, a Miss Barnes, teacher in a local
gymnasium.
“Hello, Miss Kent,” she called, cheerfully, “I haven’t seen you for an
age. Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“Where have you been keeping yourself?” returned Nyoda.
“I, Oh, I’m working this summer,” replied Miss Barnes. “I’m just in town
on business. I’m helping to conduct a girls’ summer camp on the lake
shore. I thought possibly you would bring your Camp Fire group out there
this summer. One of your girls is out there now.”
“Which one?” asked Nyoda, thinking of Chapa and Nakwisi, whom she had
heard talking about going.
“One by the name of Brewster,” said Miss Barnes, “a regular mermaid in
the water. She has the girls out there standing open-mouthed at her
swimming and diving. Why, what’s the matter?” she asked, as Nyoda gave a
sigh of relief that seemed to come from her boots.
“Nothing,” replied Nyoda, “only we’ve been scouring the town for that
very girl.”
“You have?” asked Miss Barnes, with interest. “Would you like to come
out and visit her?”
“Could I?” asked Nyoda.
“Certainly,” said Miss Barnes, “come right out with me now. I’m going
back.”
And so Sahwah’s mysterious disappearance was cleared up. When the
Winnebagos, lined up in the road, saw the automobile approaching, and
that Sahwah was in it, they welcomed her back into their midst with a
rousing Winnebago cheer that warmed her to the heart. All the clouds had
been rolled away by Nyoda’s explanations and this was a triumphant
homecoming. A regular feast was spread for her, and as she ate she
related her adventures since leaving the house early that other morning.
Without forming any plan of where she was going she had walked up the
road in the opposite direction of the car line and then a farmer had
come along on a wagon and given her a lift. He had taken her all the way
to the other car line, three miles below Onoway House. She had come into
the city by this route. She did not want to go home for fear they would
come after her, so she went to the Young Women’s Christian Association.
As she sat in the rest room wondering what she should do next she heard
two girls talking about registering for camp. This seemed to her a
timely suggestion, and she followed them to the registration desk and
registered for two weeks. She went out that same day. When she arrived
there she did such feats in the water that they asked her if she would
not stay all summer and help teach the girls to swim. She said she
would, and so saw a very easy way out of her difficulty. The reason they
had not heard from her when they put the notice in the papers was
because they did not get the city papers in camp.
Sahwah surveyed the faces around the table with a beaming countenance.
After all, she could only be entirely happy with the Winnebagos. Migwan
and she were once more on the best of terms.
“But tell us,” said Hinpoha, now that this was safe ground to tread
upon, “what it was you put into the ketchup.”
“Oh,” said Sahwah, who now remembered all about it, “those were a couple
of cloves that were lying on the table.”
And so the last bit of mystery was cleared up.