After Nyoda had fired the shots out of the window, nothing was heard or
seen of the ghost and the footsteps in the attic ceased. “It’s just as I
thought,” said Nyoda, “someone has been trying to frighten us with a
possible view of robbing the house at some time, thinking that a
houseful of women would be terror-stricken at the ghostly noises, but
when he found we had a gun and could shoot he thought better of the
plan.” Gradually the girls lost their fright, and the odd corners of
Onoway House regained their old charm. They were far too busy with the
canning to think of much else, for the tomatoes were ripening in such
large quantities that it was all they could do to dispose of them. The
4H brand found favor and the market gradually increased, and every week
Migwan had a goodly sum to deposit in the bank after the cost of the tin
cans had been deducted.
“I have to laugh when I think of that honor in the book,” said Migwan,
“can at least three cans of fruit,” and she pointed to the cans stacked
on the back porch ready to be packed into the automobile and taken to
town. “Why, hello, Calvin,” she said, as Calvin Smalley appeared at the
back door. “Come in.” Calvin came in and sat down. “What’s the matter?”
asked Migwan, for his face had a frightened and distressed look.
“Uncle Abner has turned me out!” said Calvin.
“Turned you out!” echoed the girls. “Why?”
“He showed me a will last night,” said Calvin, “a later one than that
which was found when my grandfather died, which left the farm to him
instead of to my father. He just found it last night when he was
rummaging among grandfather’s old papers. According to that I have been
living on his charity all these years instead of on my own property as I
supposed and now he says he can’t afford to keep me any longer. He
wanted me to sign a paper saying that I would work for him without pay
until I was thirty years old to make up for what I have had all these
years, and when I wouldn’t do it he told me to get out.”
“How can any man be so mean and stingy!” said Migwan, indignantly.
“And what do you intend to do now?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.
“I don’t know,” said Calvin, looking utterly downcast and discouraged.
“I had expected to go through school and then to agricultural college
and be a scientific farmer, but that’s out of the question now. I
haven’t a cent in the world. I could hire out to some of the farmers
around here, I suppose, but you know what that means—they wouldn’t pay
me much because I’m a boy, but they would get a man’s work out of me and
it’s precious little time I’d have for school. I’ve always saved Uncle
Abner the cost of one hired man in return for what he gave me, so I
don’t feel under any obligations to him. I think I’ll give up farming
for a while and go to the city and work. The trouble is I have no
friends there and it might be hard for me to get into a good place.” His
honest eyes were clouded over with perplexity and trouble.
“My father could probably get you a job in the city,” said Gladys, “if
you can wait until he gets back. He’s out west now.”
“I tell you what to do,” said kind-hearted Mrs. Gardiner to Calvin, “you
stay here with us until Mr. Evans comes back. You can help the girls in
the garden, and we were wishing not long ago that we had another man in
the house.”
“You are very kind,” said Calvin, gratefully, “but I don’t want to put
you to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Mrs. Gardiner assured him, “you can sleep with
Tom.” The girls all expressed pleasure at the prospect of having Calvin
stay at Onoway House and under the spell of their kindly hospitality his
drooping spirits revived. He shook the dust of his uncle’s house from
his feet, feeling no longer an outcast, since he had suddenly found such
kind friends on the other side of the hedge.
Calvin lived in a perpetual state of wonder at the girls at Onoway
House. They made a frolic out of everything they did and were
continually thinking up new and amazing games to play. Calvin had never
done anything at home all his life but work, and work was a serious
business to him. He never knew before that work was fun. The long, weary
hours of peeling were enlivened with songs made up on the spur of the
moment. Sahwah would look up from the pan over which she was bending,
and sing to the tune of “The Pope”:
“Our Migwan leads a jolly life, jolly life,
She peels tomatoes with her knife, with her knife,
And puts the pieces in the can,
And leaves the peelings in the pan, (Oh, tra la la).”
And then they would all start to sing at once,
“The tomatoes went in one by one,
(There’s one more bushel to peel),
Hinpoha she did cut her thumb,
(There’s one more bushel to peel).”
“The tomatoes went in two by two,
And Gladys and Sahwah fell into the stew.
The tomatoes went in three by three,
And Migwan got drowned a-trying to see.”
etc., etc., thus they made merry over the work until it was done.
“Do you know,” said Migwan, looking up from her peeling, “that it’s
Gladys’s birthday next Friday? We ought to have a celebration.”
“How about a picnic?” asked Nyoda. “We haven’t had a real one yet. Have
the rest of the Winnebagos come out from town and all of us sleep in the
tepee as we had planned on the Fourth of July. Then we’ll get a horse
and wagon and drive along the roads until we come to a place beside the
river where we want to stop and cook our dinner and just spend the day
like gypsies.” The girls entered into the plan with enthusiasm, both for
the sake of celebrating Gladys’s birthday and cheering up Calvin, who
had been rather quiet and pensive of late. It was a great disappointment
to him to have to give up his plans for going to college, and his
uncle’s unfriendly treatment of him had cut him to the heart.
Medmangi and Chapa and Nakwisi arrived the day before the picnic and the
house echoed with the sound of voices and laughter, as the Winnebagos
bubbled over with joy at being all together. The morning of the picnic
was as fine as they could wish, and it was not long before they were
bumping over the road in one of Farmer Landsdowne’s wagons, behind the
very two horses which the girls had ridden the week before. It was a
wagon full. Sahwah sat up in front and drove like a veritable daughter
of Jehu, with Farmer Landsdowne up beside her to come to the rescue in
case the horses should run away, which was not at all likely, as it took
constant persuasion to keep them going even at an easy jog trot. Mrs.
Landsdowne, who, with her husband, had been invited to the picnic, sat
beside Mrs. Gardiner, in the back of the wagon, while Calvin Smalley
stayed next to Migwan, as he usually did. She was so quiet and gentle
and kind that he felt more at ease with her than with the rest of the
Winnebagos, who were such jokers. Ophelia, who was beginning to be
inseparable from Sahwah, squeezed herself in between her and Mr.
Landsdowne, and refused to move. Sahwah, of course, took her part and
let her stay, although she was a bit crowded for space. Hinpoha and
Gladys sat at the back of the wagon dangling their feet over the end,
where they could watch the yellow road unwinding like a ribbon beneath
them, while Nyoda sat between Betty and Tom to keep the peace.
“Where are we going?” asked Mrs. Gardiner, as they swung along the road.
“Oh,” replied Sahwah, “somewhere, anywhere, everywhere, nowhere. It’s
lots more romantic to start out without any idea where you’re going and
stop wherever it suits you than to start out for a certain place and
think you have to go there even if you pass nicer places on the road.
Maybe, like Mrs. Wiggs, we’ll end up at a first-class fire.”
“We undoubtedly will,” said Nyoda, “if we expect to cook any dinner. Do
my eyes deceive me?” she continued, “or is this a fishing-rod under the
straw? It is, it is,” she cried, drawing it out. “Now I know what has
been the matter with me for the past few months, this feeling of sadness
and longing that was not akin to rheumatism. I have been pining,
languishing, wasting away with a desire to go fishing. My early life ran
quiet beside a babbling brook, and there I sat and fished trout and
fried them over an outdoor fire. This spirit will never know repose
until it has gone fishing once more.”
“Take the rod and welcome, it’s mine,” said Calvin, glad that something
of his should give pleasure to one of his cherished friends.
In a shady grove of sycamores beside the river they dismounted from the
wagon and scattered in search of firewood, for the fire must be started
the first thing, as there were potatoes to roast. Nyoda took the
fishing-rod and started for the river. “We’ll never get anything to eat
if we wait until you catch enough fish for dinner,” said Sahwah.
“Who said I was going to catch enough for dinner?” said Nyoda. “I
wouldn’t be cruel enough to keep you waiting all that time. But I do
want to catch just one for old times’ sake.” She strolled down to the
water’s edge and after a few minutes Mr. Landsdowne joined her. He liked
Nyoda and enjoyed a talk with her.
“Are you going to play all alone at the picnic?” he asked, as he dropped
down beside her.
“Alone, but with _unbaited_ zeal,” she quoted, digging around in the
ground with her stick. “Come and help me find a worm.”
“I’m afraid the Early Bird got them all,” she said plaintively, after a
few moment’s fruitless search. By dint of much digging they finally
unearthed one and baited the hook. Nyoda cast her line and then settled
down to a spell of silent waiting. “I don’t believe there’s a fish in
this old river,” she said impatiently, after fifteen minutes of angling
which brought no results. “Not here, anyway. Let’s go down beyond the
bend where the river widens out into that broad pool. The water is
deeper and quieter there.” They moved on to the new location and Nyoda
tried her luck again. This time success crowned her efforts and she
landed a small fish almost immediately. “What did I tell you?” she
exclaimed, triumphantly. “There’s luck in changing places. Now for
another one.” In a few moments she felt a tug at the line. “It must be a
whale,” she cried, enthusiastically, “it pulls so hard.”
“It may be caught on a snag,” said Farmer Landsdowne. “Here, let me get
it loose for you, I’m afraid you’ll break that rod,” he said, as the
pole bent ominously in her hands.
“Spare the rod and spoil the fish,” said Nyoda.
“What are you doing on my property?” said a harsh voice behind them,
“don’t you see that sign?”
Nyoda and Farmer Landsdowne sprang to their feet in surprise and faced
an irate farmer in blue shirt sleeves. Sure enough, on a tree not very
far from them there was a sign reading,
NO FISHING IN THIS POND.
“We didn’t see the sign,” said Nyoda, stammering in her embarrassment,
and crimson to the roots of her hair.
“We really didn’t,” confirmed Farmer Landsdowne.
“Well, ye see it now, don’t ye?” pursued the proprietor of the
fish-pond. “Kindly move along.”
“We have one fish,” said Nyoda, feeling unutterably foolish, “but we’ll
pay you for that. I must have one to take back to the picnic or I don’t
dare show my face.”
“Ye say ye caught a fish?” shouted the farmer, excitedly. “Holy
mackerel! That was the only one in the pond—I put it in there this
morning—and I’ve rented the fishing of it to a young feller from
Cleveland at twenty-five cents an hour.”
“But it didn’t take me an hour to catch him,” said Nyoda. “It only took
five minutes. That’ll be about two cents.” But the farmer held out for
his twenty-five cents and Nyoda paid it, laughing to herself at the way
the “feller from Cleveland” had been cheated out of his sport.
“Don’t ever tell the girls about this,” pleaded Nyoda, as they moved
shamefacedly away. “I’m supposed to be a pattern of conduct, and I’m
always scolding the girls because they don’t use their eyes enough.
They’ll never get over laughing at me if they find it out.” Farmer
Landsdowne promised solemnly that he would not divulge the secret.
“Did you catch anything?” called Sahwah, as Nyoda returned to the group
under the trees.
“We certainly did,” replied Nyoda, with a sidelong glance at Farmer
Landsdowne.
“Listen to this part of father’s last letter,” said Gladys, as they sat
around on the grass eating their dinner. “Juneau, Alaska.
“We recently saw a group of Camp Fire girls holding a Ceremonial Meeting
on a mountain near Juneau. It fairly made us homesick; it reminded us so
much of the group we used to see in our house. We went up and spoke to
them and they send you this three-petaled flower as a greeting.”
“To think we have friends all over the country, just because we know the
meaning of the word Wohelo!” said Migwan in an awed tone, as the
Winnebagos crowded around Gladys to see the flower which had come from
far off Alaska, a silent All Hail from kindred spirits.
Just at this point Ophelia, who was coming a long way with the
coffee-pot in her hand, tripped over a root and sprawled on her face on
the ground, showering everybody near her with coffee. “We have your
title now,” said Nyoda, “it’s Ophelia-Face-in-the-Mud. You’re always
falling that way.”
“And I know what your name is,” replied Ophelia.
“What is it?” asked Nyoda, guilelessly.
“It’s Nyoda-Chased-by-a-Farmer,” said Ophelia.
Nyoda started and looked guilty. “How did you know that?” she asked,
giving herself away completely.
“Followed you,” said Ophelia. “I saw you fishin’ where the sign said to
keep out and the man in the blue shirt sleeves chased you out.”
“Tell us about it,” demanded all the girls, and Nyoda had to tell the
whole story that she wanted to keep a secret.
“Fishy, fishy in the brook,
But the fishers ‘got the hook,’”
chanted Sahwah, teasingly. Nyoda and Farmer Landsdowne looked sheepish
at the jokes that were thrown at them thick and fast, but they stood it
good-naturedly.
“A truce!” cried Gladys, coming to the rescue of Nyoda. “Let’s play
charades.”
“Good!” said Migwan. “You be leader of one side and let Nyoda take the
other. Whichever side gives up first will have to get supper for the
rest.”
Gladys chose Sahwah, Mrs. Gardiner, Betty, Ophelia, Tom and Calvin.
Nyoda chose Mr. and Mrs. Landsdowne, Hinpoha, Migwan, Chapa, Medmangi
and Nakwisi. Gladys’s side went out first and came in without her.
“Word of three syllables, first syllable,” said Sahwah, who acted as
spokesman. The whole company sat down in a row, striking the most
doleful attitude and groaning as if in pain, and shedding tears into
their handkerchiefs.
“Most woeful looking crowd I ever saw,” remarked Mr. Landsdowne.
“Woe!” shouted Nyoda, triumphantly, and the guess was correct.
The weepers continued their weeping in the second syllable, and then
Gladys appeared, felt of all their pulses and gave each a dose out of a
bottle, whereupon they all straightened up, lost their symptoms of
distress, and capered for joy.
“Cure,” said Migwan. The players shook their heads.
“Heal,” shouted Hinpoha, and Gladys acknowledged it.
In the last syllable Gladys went around and demanded payment for her
services, but in each case was met with a promise to pay at some future
time.
“Owe,” said Chapa, which was pronounced right. “O heal woe, what’s
that?” she asked.
“You’re twisted,” said Nyoda, “it’s ‘Wohelo.’ That really was too easy.
Let’s not divide them into syllables after this,” she suggested, “it’s
no contest of wits that way. Let’s act out the word all at once.” The
alteration was accepted with enthusiasm.
Hinpoha came out alone for her side. “Word of two syllables,” she said.
Taking a blanket she spread it over a bushy weed and tucked the corners
under until it looked not unlike a large stone. Then she retired from
the scene. Soon Nyoda came along and paused in front of the blanket,
which looked like an inviting seat.
“What a lovely rock to rest on!” she exclaimed, and seated herself upon
it. Of course, it flattened down under her weight and she was borne down
to the ground.
A moment of silence followed this performance as the guessers racked
their brains for the meaning. “Is it ‘Landsdowne?’” asked Gladys.
“It might be, but it isn’t,” said Nyoda, laughing.
“I know,” said Sahwah, starting up, “it’s ‘shamrock.’”
“You are sharper than I thought,” said Nyoda, rising from her seat.
“Nobody down yet. Now, fire your broadside at us. No word under three
syllables. Anything less would be unworthy of our giant intellects.”
“Third round!” cried Calvin.
Sahwah walked down to the water’s edge, holding in her hand a large key.
Leaning over, she moved the key as if it were walking in the water. This
proved a puzzler, and cries of ‘Milwaukee,’ ‘Nebrasky,’ and ‘turnkey’
were all met with a triumphant shake of the head.
“It looks as if we would have to give up,” said Hinpoha.
Just then Nyoda sprang up with a shout. “Why didn’t I think of it
before?” she cried. “It’s ‘Keewaydin,’ key-wade-in. What else could you
expect from Sahwah?”
“That’s it,” said Sahwah. “You must be a mind reader.”
“Here’s where we finish you off,” said Nyoda, as her side came out
again. “We’ve taken a word of four syllables this time.” The whole team
advanced in single file, Indian fashion, keeping closely in step. Round
and round they marched, back and forth, never slackening their speed,
until one by one they tumbled to the ground from sheer exhaustion and
stiffened out lifelessly. The guessers looked at each other, puzzled.
“Do it again,” said Sahwah. The strenuous march was repeated, and the
marchers succumbed as before. Still no light came to the onlookers.
Sahwah whispered something to Gladys.
“Would you just as soon do it again?” asked Gladys. Again the file wound
round the trees and tumbled to the turf. Nyoda made a triumphant grimace
as no guess was forthcoming. Sahwah’s eyes began to sparkle.
“Would you please do it once more?” she pleaded.
“Have mercy on the performers,” groaned Nyoda, but they went through it
again, and this time they were too spent to rise from the ground when
the acting was done. “Do you give up?” called Nyoda.
“No,” answered Gladys.
“You have five seconds to produce the answer, then,” said Nyoda.
“It’s diapason,” said Gladys, “die-a-pacin.”
“Really!” said Nyoda, falling back in astonishment.
“We knew it all the while!” cried Sahwah and Gladys. “We just kept you
doing it over and over again because we liked to see you work.”
The laugh was on Nyoda and her team all the way around. “We do this to
each other!” called Sahwah, using the Indian form of taunt when one has
played a successful trick on another.
“Tie the villains to a tree, and let them perish of mosquito bites,”
Nyoda commanded in an awful tone. “I’ll get even with you for that, Miss
Sahwah,” she said, darkly, as the other side trooped off to cook up a
new poser.
“Hadn’t you better stop playing now?” inquired Mrs. Gardiner. “You know
we wanted to get home before dark.”
“Oh, let’s do one more,” pleaded Migwan. If they had only stopped
playing when Mrs. Gardiner suggested it and gone home early they might
have been in time to prevent the thing which occurred, but they were
bent on seeing one side or the other go down, and Gladys’s side prepared
another charade.
“We’ve played up to your own game,” said Gladys, who was introducing the
new charade, “and have increased the number to five syllables.” The
actors were Mrs. Gardiner, Betty and Tom Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner was
scolding the children and emphasized her remarks by a sharp pinch on
Tom’s arm. Betty, seeing the maternal hand also extended in her
direction, promptly climbed a tree and sat in safety, while her mother
shook her finger at her and cried warningly, “I’ll attend to you after
awhile.”
“What on earth?” said Nyoda, scratching her head in perplexity. But
scratch as she might, no answer came, and the rest of her team had
nothing to offer either. After holding out for fully fifteen minutes
they were compelled to give it up.
“It’s ‘manipulator,’” cried the winning side, in chorus.
“‘Ma-nip-you-later!’” And they stood around to condole while Nyoda’s
side prepared supper. Then it was that Calvin, basely deserting the team
he had helped so far, went over to the side of the enemy and helped
Migwan fetch wood for the fire. Both sides stopped often to jeer at each
other, so it took them twice as long to get the meal ready as it would
have ordinarily. They loitered and sang along the way home, letting the
horses take their time, and it was quite late when they reached Onoway
House.
The first thing that greeted them was the sight of Mr. Bob, the cocker
spaniel, rolling on the front lawn in great distress, and giving every
sign of being poisoned. They hastily administered an antidote and, after
a time of suspense were confident that the effect of the poison had been
counteracted. So far they had only been in the kitchen, but when the
excitement about the dog was over they moved toward the sitting-room to
rest awhile and drink lemonade before going to bed. When the light was
lit they all stopped in astonishment. In the sitting-room there was an
old-fashioned combination desk and bookcase, the bookcase part set on
top of the desk and reaching nearly to the ceiling. It belonged to the
house, and the desk was closed and locked. Now, however, it stood open,
and all the drawers were pulled out, while the top of the desk and the
floor before it were strewn with papers in great disorder.
“Burglars!” cried Migwan. “The house has been robbed!” They immediately
looked through the house to see what had been taken. Up-stairs in the
room occupied by the two boys there was a desk similar to the one in the
sitting-room. This had also been broken open and the drawers searched
through, although the disorder of papers was not so great as it was
down-stairs. Half afraid of what they should find, the whole family went
from room to room, but nothing else seemed to have been disturbed, and
as far as they could see nothing had been stolen. The silver in the
sideboard drawer was untouched, but then, this was only plate, and worn
at that. But in full view on the dining-room table lay Sahwah’s
Firemaker Bracelet, which she had laid there a few moments before
starting for the picnic, and then, with her customary forgetfulness,
neglected to pick up again. This was solid silver and worth stealing.
Further than that, she had also forgotten to wear her watch, and it was
still safe in her top bureau drawer. It was a riddle, and as they talked
it over they could only come to one conclusion, and that was that the
burglar had thought there were large sums of money hidden in the two
desks and had passed over the small articles in the hope of getting a
bigger harvest, or else was leaving those other things to the last. He
ransacked the up-stairs desk, having broken the lock, and then went
through the one down-stairs. While looking through the papers in the
sitting-room he had evidently been frightened away by something, for
there was one drawer that had not been disturbed. This also accounted
for the fact that nothing else had been taken. What had frightened him
was probably the barking of the dog, who, although he was on the
outside, had become aware of the presence of someone in the house. He
had fed the dog poison, probably poisoned meat, for they had found a
small piece of meat on the porch. Evidently the poison had begun to act
before Mr. Bob had it all eaten, and he left that piece. But before the
dog was dead the burglar had heard the family returning along the road,
singing, and made his escape. The whole thing must have happened not
long before, for the dog had not had the poison long enough to take
deadly effect. It was then that they regretted having lingered so long
over the game of charades and delayed their homecoming.
“If we had only been half an hour sooner, we might have found out who it
was,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Thank Heaven we weren’t half an hour later,” said Hinpoha, “or Mr. Bob
would have been dead.” She would have felt worse about losing Mr. Bob
than about having all her possessions stolen.
“How about sleeping in the tepee to-night?” asked Gladys. There was not
enough room in the house for so many people and the eight Winnebagos had
made their beds in the tepee while the three girls from town were there,
both to solve the question of sleeping quarters and for the fun of the
thing. It was just like camping out to sleep on the ground, all the
eight girls in a circle around the little watch fire in the middle of
the tepee.
“Oh, I’ll be afraid to,” said Hinpoha.
“I don’t know but what it would be just as safe as sleeping in the
house,” said Nyoda. “I doubt if anyone would think of people sleeping
out in that thing. It’s a rather novel idea in this neighborhood. And at
any rate there’s nothing out there to steal and consequently nothing to
tempt a thief.”
So, their fears having vanished, the Winnebagos went to bed in the tepee
just as they had planned. Nyoda took the precaution of putting her
pistol under her pillow. The girls really enjoyed the air of suppressed
excitement. When did youth and high spirits ever fail to respond to the
thrill of danger, either real or fancied? This attempted burglary was
the most exciting thing that had ever happened to most of the girls and
they were getting as much thrill out of it as possible. It amused them
to see Tom and Calvin parading the front lawn armed with bird guns,
swelled up with importance at having to guard a houseful of women.
Instead of hoping that the burglar had been scared away for good they
wished fervently that he would return and give them a chance to shoot.
They would have stayed there all night if Mrs. Gardiner had not ordered
them to bed.
One by one the girls in the tepee dropped off to slumber, worn out with
the varied events of the day. But Nyoda could not sleep. She had a
throbbing headache from the glare of the sun on the water while she sat
fishing. The little fire, in the center of the bare circle of earth
which prevented it from spreading, died down and subsided to glowing
embers, then one by one these turned black and left the tepee in
darkness. There was not a spark left. Nyoda was sure of this, for she
sat up several times in an effort to make herself comfortable, and when
she took a drink from the pail of well water which stood nearby she
emptied the dipper over the spot where the fire had been, to make doubly
sure. Still sleep would not come. She stared out of the doorway of the
tepee into the darkness. A group of beech trees with their light grey
bark loomed up ghostlike before the door. She began to think of the
ghost which had appeared to her that other night in that very doorway,
and tried to connect the incidents which had taken place afterwards with
that. One thing was sure—someone was getting into Onoway House every few
days. Why nothing was taken was a mystery to her. It seemed to her now
that it was not so much an attempt at burglary as an effort to annoy and
frighten the family. Possibly it was someone who had a grudge against
them—she could not imagine why—and was indulging in these pranks to
satisfy a spite. She thought she saw a glimmer of light on the subject.
Farmer Landsdowne had once told her that when it became known that Mr.
Mitchell was going to give up the care of the place, several farmers of
the Centerville Road district had applied for the position of caretaker,
but wishing to assist Migwan, the Bartletts had refused their offers and
given the place over to the Winnebagos. That must be it. Someone wanted
that job badly and was wreaking his disappointment on the people who had
kept him from getting it. The more she thought of it the more probable
it seemed. Possibly more than one were involved in the plot.
Then another thought struck her. Could it be the crazy man who lived
alone in the little house among the trees? Calvin had stated that he
never left the house, but who could account for the inspirations of an
unbalanced mind? That nothing had been taken from the house seemed to
indicate a want of fixed purpose in the mind of the housebreaker—to go
to all that trouble for nothing. This idea also seemed worth
considering.
As she lay turning these things over in her mind she thought she heard a
stealthy footstep in the grass outside of the tepee. Thinking that the
ghost was coming to pay another visit, she drew the pistol from under
her pillow and turning over, face downward, lay with it pointed toward
the doorway. There would be no outcry when he appeared in the doorway.
The first intimation the ghost would have that he was observed would be
a shot in the leg that would prevent him from running away and would
solve the mystery. In tense silence she waited, one; two; three minutes,
but nothing appeared. Then suddenly she smelled smoke, and turning
around swiftly saw that the side of the tepee toward which she had had
her back was in flames.
“Fire!” she called at the top of her voice. “Sahwah! Hinpoha! Gladys!
Migwan! Wake up!” And seizing the pail of water she dashed it against
the side of the tepee. The water sizzled as it fell, but the canvas
covering was burning like tinder. Thus rudely awakened the girls sprang
up in alarm. The place was filling with dense smoke, and through it they
groped their way to the opening, dragging out their blankets. Hardly had
the last girl got out when the whole thing was one roaring blaze, which
lit up the scenery a long way around.
Nyoda, paying no attention to the flames that were mounting skyward from
the burning canvas, looked intently for a lurking figure among the
trees, for she thought it hardly possible that whoever had set the tepee
afire could have gotten outside of the range of light in that short
time. It was possible to see as far as the road on the one side and
across the river on the other. But nowhere was there a man or the shadow
of a man. The folks came running out of Onoway House half dressed and in
terror that the girls had not escaped from the burning tent in time, and
the farmers all the way down the road, seeing the glare, rushed to offer
their assistance, for a fire in the country is a serious thing where
there is no water pressure. Farmer Landsdowne came on a dead run,
carrying a water bucket. Even Abner Smalley appeared in the midst of the
crowd. He gave a scowling look at Calvin, but said nothing, and soon
took his departure when the danger was over, as it was directly, for it
did not take long to reduce that canvas covering to a black mass, and
buckets of water thrown all around on the ground and the trees kept the
fire from spreading.
For the second time that night the family gathered in the sitting-room
and faced each other over an exciting happening. “I told you if you
built a fire in that tepee you would burn it down,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“I never felt easy when you had one.”
“But it didn’t catch fire from our little fire,” declared Nyoda, and
told the events of the night, from the going out of the fire to the
footsteps outside the tepee when the canvas had suddenly blazed up when
she was lying in wait for the ghost with a pistol. The circle of faces
paled with fear as she told her tale. Who could this mysterious visitor
be, who seemed determined to do them some harm? The girls finished the
night in the house, three in a bed, but none of them closed their eyes
to sleep.