IN SEARCH OF ADVENTURE.
At the close of singing hour one morning the week following the
Fourth-of-July celebration Nyoda rose with an air of mystery and
requested the girls not to make up their beds as usual, but
instead to roll their blankets in their ponchos and pile them up
together. A shriek of joy went up from the girls. "What is it,
Nyoda, a canoe trip?"
Nyoda shook her head. "You'll see," was all she would say.
Immediately she was surrounded by the girls clamoring to be told
where they were going. "I surrender," she said, laughing at
Migwan, who was embracing her feet in supplication, "we're going
hunting."
"Hunting what?" clamored the chorus.
"Oh, adventures and such things," said Nyoda in an off-hand
manner.
"Where are we going?" "How are we going?" "When are we going to
start?" shouted the girls from all sides.
Nyoda put her hands over her ears and tapped for silence with her
foot. "One at a time, please, ladies, and I will endeavor to
answer any questions that may come into your minds," she said in
her best lecture-room manner.
"Oh, Nyoda, tell us," begged the girls.
"Having your kind permission to speak," resumed Nyoda, "I will
try to state the case briefly. Now then, one, two, three! We're
going to Balsam Lake!"
"It's a hike!" shouted Sahwah, turning a handspring.
"Is it, Nyoda?" asked Migwan.
Nyoda nodded. "That's it. We're going to hike through the woods
to Balsam Lake, which is a distance of about twelve miles, camp
there for the night, and return to-morrow by another route."
"O Goody!" cried Sahwah, hopping up and down on one foot, "when
are we going to start?"
"The first two will start at ten o'clock," said Nyoda.
"The first two!" echoed the girls. "Aren't we all going
together?"
Then Nyoda outlined her plan. Believing that the girls would
collect more adventures by going in pairs instead of all
together, besides the fun of following a trail marked out by
leaders, she had arranged the girls two by two. The first pair,
who would be the pathfinders and blaze the trail for those coming
after, would leave at ten o'clock, the next pair twenty minutes
later, then the next, and so on. Their ponchos would be brought
in a wagon over the main road and left for them; they would buy
their supplies for supper and breakfast at the last village they
passed through. Their lunches, they would carry with them. The
first two were to buy potatoes and start the fire and put them
in, while the rest would bring the other supplies.
"Who and who are going to be partners?" demanded Sahwah.
"Listen, while I read the list," answered Nyoda. "Sahwah and
Nakwisi, Hinpoha and Migwan, Gladys and Chapa, Medmangi and
myself. You will leave camp in the order I have named you.
Sahwah and Nakwisi will be the pathfinders." Sahwah seized
Nakwisi around the waist and the two danced for joy.
"Who'll take care of the camp while we're away?" asked Chapa.
"I have arranged with a man from the village to look after things
until we get back," answered Nyoda.
"What are we to carry with us?" asked Migwan.
"You will each carry a hatchet, flashlight, notebook and pencil,
a camera, a roll of antiseptic gauze and a roll of surgeon's
plaster. Sahwah and Nakwisi, here is a chart of the road you are
to take and a can of vermilion paint with which to mark the
trail. Take all the pictures you can along the road, girls, and
keep a list of the birds, animals, trees and flowers that you
recognize. We will compare them afterward and the pair who has
observed the most will receive a local honor. Hurry up, you
pathfinders, you have only an hour to get ready!"
With a wild scramble the girls made for their tents to get their
ponchos rolled and things collected. Nyoda had given them a
demonstration of poncho rolling the week before so they all knew
how. Gladys, however, had to have a good deal of help from Chapa
before she was ready to start. Good-natured Chapa folded her
blankets so the poncho extended on all sides and spread her
nightgown, towel, brush and comb and toothbrush crosswise so they
would roll. Now Gladys understood why Nyoda had told her
especially to bring a small, loosely-stuffed pillow. It was to
roll in the poncho. When it came to the actual rolling Gladys
had to take a hand herself, for it takes two to roll a poncho
successfully.
"Now you tie it up with a square knot," directed Chapa, when the
stovepipe-like roll had been bent into a horseshoe.
"What's a square knot?" asked Gladys.
"Why, this kind," said Chapa, dexterously tying one. Gladys
tried several times, but failed to produce a square knot. "O
dear," she exclaimed impatiently, "I can't tie the crazy thing.
Why won't the other kind do?"
"A granny knot always comes untied," explained Chapa. "Here, I'll
tie your poncho up. It's getting late, and I want to help make
the sandwiches for the girls who are starting first."
"Close your tents before you leave, girls," said Nyoda, appearing
in the doorway, "it may rain while we are away. Very neatly
done," she said, indicating Gladys's poncho with its smooth ties,
"you are fast learning to be a camper." Gladys said nothing
about Chapa's having done it up for her, and of course Chapa
would not say so.
Promptly at ten o'clock the pathfinders marched away, looking
quite explorerfied with their hatchets hanging from their belts
and their Wohelo knives chained to their bloomer pockets. At
twenty-minute intervals the other pairs started, Nyoda going the
rounds before she left to see who had left her things in the
neatest order, and whose poncho looked the best. A banner would
go to the pair who kept up the best style throughout the hike.
She and Medmangi ate their lunch before starting, as they left so
near noon.
Leaving camp in the care of the man from the village, they struck
into the path through the woods. The whole earth seemed filled
with the scent of flowers and the invigorating odor of the pines.
Here in Maine the wild strawberries were in full prime early in
July, and the path was bordered with daisies and other bright
flowers. The two swung along in silence with an enjoyment too
deep for words, for they appreciated as only Camp Fire Girls can
the beauties and, wonders of nature. Back somewhere in the world
they had left behind dull care might be beating its incessant
tom-tom, and the air was full of wars and rumors of wars, but
here every harsh note was drowned in the singing of birds.
"Isn't it glorious?" said Nyoda fervently, drinking in a long
breath of the pine-scented air, and swelling out her already
well-developed chest.
Presently the path they were on was crossed by another and at the
intersection there was a splash of bright red paint on a tree.
"A blaze!" cried Nyoda, stopping short. "Which path did they
take, I wonder?" In the road at the foot of the blazed tree lay
a small heap of stones pointing in the direction taken by the
leaders. "What's this?" asked Nyoda, picking up a small box from
beside the stones. It was marked "For Nyoda." She lifted the
lid and out hopped a tiny live frog. In the bottom of the box
was a piece of paper on which was drawn a sunfish.
So they went on for nearly half an hour, following the red
blazes, when suddenly they came upon Chapa and Gladys sitting in
the road. Gladys had a blister on her heel. Nyoda bandaged it
for her and showed her how to put a piece of adhesive on the
other heel to keep it from blistering. The rule of the road was
that if one pair caught up with another they were to sit down and
give them a ten minutes' start. So Nyoda and Medmangi sat down
and waited until Gladys and Chapa were well under way.
The next blaze they struck was truly startling. It was a little
silver birch tree with the stem painted entirely red. Nailed to
it with a big rusty nail was a piece of cardboard. At the top
was written:
"Sahwah and the Starlore Maiden
Keep ahead though heavy laden."
Then followed a many-pointed symbol and the words, "See our
combination symbol? It's a starfish!" Underneath was a couplet in
a different writing.
"Here come Migwan and Hinpoha
Two and two like the beasts of Noah."
Underneath that was a verse signed by "The Chipmunk."
"Gladys's heel is full of plaster,
Or else we would travel faster."
Nyoda and Medmangi shouted and took the card along for a
souvenir, adding the lines,
"Here Nyoda and Medmangi
Read the blaze and held a tangi."
A little farther on they discovered the legend:
"Here we sit down in the road,
For Sahwah's stocking must be sewed."
"What's the matter, Grumpy?" said Migwan to Hinpoha, who had been
stewing around to herself for the last ten minutes.
"It's this old orange I brought along for lunch," burst out
Hinpoha. "I don't know what to do with it. If I put it in my
bloomers it bangs against my leg, and if I carry it in my bag it
bangs against my stomach, and if I carry it in my hand I drop it
every other minute. It's driving me crazy."
"Why don't you eat it?" asked Migwan simply.
"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Hinpoha, and soon had
the offending orange safely disposed of.
Lunch time found Sahwah and Nakwisi close to a farm house and
they went in to ask for a drink of water. The farmer's wife
looked curiously at the two girls in bloomers carrying a can of
red paint. Sahwah introduced Nakwisi and herself and explained
what they were doing. "Land sakes alive!" exclaimed the farmer's
wife, "what girls don't do nowadays! Livin' like Indians and
walkin' their legs off just for the fun of it! Come right in and
I'll see if I can't find something better than water to give
you." She bustled out into the summer kitchen and returned with
a pitcher of milk and two glasses. "Here, drink this along with
your sandwiches, and try a dish of berries." Sahwah and Nakwisi
needed no second invitation. Their sandwiches had been pretty
well baked in the sun for the last two hours and were as dry as
straw, so the milk and berries were decidedly refreshing.
"How restful it is here," sighed Sahwah luxuriously, leaning back
in the cushioned rocking chair. "Can't you stay a spell, girls,
and rest up?" said their hostess cordially.
"We have half an hour for our noonday rest," said Sahwah, "and
I'd like to take it right in this chair, if you don't mind." She
slipped off her shoes and stretched her feet to rest them,
closing her eyes meanwhile, and Nakwisi followed suit.
When they finally rose to go the farmer's wife brought out a
plate of cookies which she urged them to take along to eat on the
road. She stood looking after them for a long time as they
trudged along in the yellow dust. "I wish I could go along with
'em, over the hills," she exclaimed suddenly to the unheeding
hens that were walking up and down the steps, "I'm tired of
staying at home and doing the same things over and over again. I
wish I could go along too!"
Chapa and Gladys, following the blazes through the woods, found
their path barred at one place by a rather wide brook. The trail
was marked again on the other side. "How are we going to get
across?" asked Gladys.
"Wade through," said Chapa, briefly, sitting down and commencing
to pull off her shoes and stockings.
Gladys put her hand into the water and shook her head. "It's too
cold," she said, drawing back.
"No, it isn't," said Chapa, "the rest went through it. Come on,
you'll be all right." Stuffing her stockings into her shoes, she
threw them to the farther bank, and then stepping into the swift
little stream she waded across calmly. Gladys hesitated for
several minutes before she could make up her mind to put her feet
in the water, but finally, encouraged by Chapa, she stepped
gingerly in. "Be careful of the rocks, they're slippery," warned
Chapa, but the warning was hardly out of her mouth when Gladys
slipped on one of the smooth stones and sat down with a mighty
splash. Chapa flew to the rescue and pulled her out on the bank.
"What will I do?" wailed Gladys, "I can't go on with these wet
bloomers."
"Wear my bathing suit," suggested Chapa, untying it from around
her waist where she had been wearing it as a sort of sash, with
all her impedimenta stuck into the folds. So Gladys changed to
the bathing suit, and Chapa fixed the wet bloomers on a stick
which they could carry between them, so they would be dry by the
time they reached the night's encampment.
"We ought to be pretty near the end of our journey," said Nyoda
to Medmangi, at about half-past four in the afternoon. "Have you
caught sight of Balsam Lake yet?"
Medmangi shook her head. "The woods are too thick to see
anything through," she answered. "Let's call," said Nyoda.
Together they raised their hands to their mouths and sent out the
long, yodling call of the Camp Fire Girls, and then stood silent,
listening. Before the echoes had ceased coming out of the woods
the call was answered from somewhere beyond the trees. "We're
nearly there!" said Nyoda, and they quickened their pace as they
went through the last strip of woods. Soon they heard voices and
saw figures moving about in the distance, and presently they came
upon the rest of the girls on the shore of the tiny lake. Some
of the girls were lying at full length on the soft ground; others
were preparing supper. Hinpoha was chopping wood with her
hatchet; Sahwah was shaving chocolate with hers. The fire was
built close to the water's edge and the firelight shone out redly
across the water.
Migwan set a can of beans in the embers to warm, then she sat
down on the beach to enjoy the view. The late afternoon sun was
pouring its full glory on the lake, making its surface one
dazzling sheet of light. Migwan shaded her eyes with her hand,
and drank in the splendor of the scene with all her beauty-loving
soul. "Now I know how Scott felt when he wrote:
"One burnished sheet of living gold,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,"'
mused Migwan, and fell to dreaming dreams as golden as the
setting sun.
Around the fire the tongues were wagging merrily. "We met a man
with a wagon and he said, 'Jump in,' and we said, 'No, thank
you,' and he said, 'Well, don't, then, ding it.'--"
"We ate our lunch beside a brook and Migwan dropped her
sandwiches in and had bread soup--"
"We met a bull and Hinpoha climbed the fence into a field and
there were two bulls in that field--"
"Nyoda sat down in a potato patch to tie her shoe and the farmer
came out and yelled--"
BANG! There was a terrific explosion that scattered the
firebrands among the girls and showered them with ashes and
fragments of potatoes. They sprang to their feet, extinguishing
the fires that started in various places, and asking what had
happened. Nyoda's glance happened to fall on Hinpoha, who had
sat nearest the fire. The whole front of her middy was plastered
with--_beans!_
On the ground by the fire lay the flattened remains of a tin can.
Migwan had put the beans to heat without opening the can. Shrieks
of laughter arose when the truth dawned on the girls and it was
many a day before they left off teasing Migwan about it. The
fire was built up again, bacon "frizzled," and toast and cocoa
made. "And my mouth was just watering for baked potatoes,"
wailed Hinpoha.
"And mine for baked beans," echoed Sahwah.
"You shouldn't eat potatoes if you want to get thin," said
Migwan.
"Shouldn't I, Nyoda?" asked Hinpoha, appealing to her guardian.
Nyoda pursed up her lips and recited with a judicial air:
"If you would slimmer grow, my daughter,
Eat no starches, drink no water."
Sahwah then took up the tale:
"Look not on the candy sweet,
Fall not for the fat of meat."
Thus it went round the circle, each girl pointing her finger at
Hinpoha and reciting a couplet:
"If your fat you'd wear away,
Exercise ten hours a day,"
"If you would grow thin and graceful,
Eat of lemons this whole caseful."
"If you think that you're too large,
Swim ahead and tow the barge."
"If you really would grow small,
Don't eat anything at all."
"I think you're mean," said Hinpoha, wiping away mock tears.
Immediately all the girls flung themselves on her, hugging and
caressing her.
"Never mind, 'Poha," they comforted, "we love you anyhow. We
couldn't live without you."
"Did anybody catch up with anybody else today?" asked Sahwah.
Nyoda and Medmangi sprang to their feet, and pointing scornfully
at Chapa and Gladys, sang to the tune of "Forsaken:
"O'ertaken, o'ertaken, o'ertaken were they,
On a stone by the roadside they sat plain as day;
We sat down beside them and sang them this song,
Which caused them to rise up and travel along."
"We made a song, too," cried Migwan and Hinpoha, springing to
their feet. "It's to the tune of 'Jingle Bells.'" And keeping
time with their feet, they sang:
"Marching through the woods,
Onward day by day,
Round the lake we go,
Singing all the way.
Packs strapped to our backs,
There our eats we stow,
Oh, what fun it is to hike
With the girls of Wohelo!
Wohelo, Wohelo,
Singing all the day,
O what fun it is to hike
Around the world away!"
The girls joined in the chorus, and then went back to the
beginning, and in a few minutes the song had been "adopted for
use." By this time the fire was burning low and Nyoda reminded
the girls that they had walked twelve miles that day and had a
still longer tramp ahead on the morrow. "It doesn't seem
possible that I've walked so far today," said Migwan, sitting up
and stretching. "I'm not nearly as tired as I have been some
days last winter after school."
The girls had all picked out their sleeping places before dark
and made up their beds on the ground. Before retiring they all
took a dip in the lake, splashing around in the darkness and
barking their shins on the rocks. Gladys and Chapa sought their
beds first. It was the first time that Gladys had ever slept on
the ground. "There's a rock in my back and my feet are higher
than my head," she wailed.
"Then let's move," said Chapa, and suiting the action to the
word, she picked up the bed and deposited it in another place.
This was fairly comfortable and they subsided.
Next an uproar arose from a bed near the beach. "There's a
million ants in my bed!" shrieked Migwan, jumping up and shaking
her blankets. She had spread her bed on a colony of ant hills,
and the ants had improved the shining hours until bedtime by
crawling between the blankets.
Sahwah was the last in bed, having stayed in the water longer
than the others. She was strangely wakeful and lay for a long
time staring up at the pines towering above her, that seemed to
rise hundreds of feet before a branch appeared. She amused
herself by reaching out her hand and identifying her belongings,
which hung on a bush at her head. Her hand closed over the can
of red paint. Like lightning she had an inspiration. She raised
her head and looked at the next bed. "It's Migwan," she said to
herself. Grasping the paint brush, she reached over and daubed
the face of the sleeper. Then she settled down and slept.
Gladys woke up in the gray dawn and looked out from her sandwich
bed. The lake was completely hidden by a thick mist. Drops were
coming down, patter, patter, on her poncho. "Chapa," she
whispered excitedly to her partner, "it's raining!"
"Well, what of it?" answered Chapa, without opening her eyes, and
pulling the poncho over their heads, she resumed her slumbers.
Gladys drew a horrified breath at the idea of sleeping on the
ground in the rain, but the cozy dryness of her bed soon wooed
her back to slumber. When she opened her eyes again the sun was
rising over the lake. No, there were two suns, one in the lake
which was making it boil and send up clouds of steam, and another
in the sky which was drawing up the vapor. Soon the bugle blew
and the camp woke to activity.
With a whoop the girls made for the lake for their morning
plunge. "Gladys!" said Nyoda, "what is the matter with your
face?" On each cheek, as well as on her nose and forehead, there
was a daub of red.
Sahwah stared, then she giggled. "I thought it was Migwan beside
me," she explained. "Excuse me, Gladys, I didn't mean to
decorate you." Gladys, however, evidently thought differently,
for she was decidedly cool to Sahwah from then on.
Just before breakfast the girls assembled on the high cliff to
sing the morning song. Their choice was Rousseau's beautiful
hymn,
"When the mists have rolled in splendor
From the beauty of the hills."
The mist curtains were rolling up from the lake in the morning
sun, disclosing the lofty brow of Mount Washington in the
distance, and the girls felt very near to God and Nature as they
sang the inspired words.
Breakfast was cooked in the open and consisted of fruit, pancakes
and cocoa. Hinpoha heroically passed up both the pancakes and the
cocoa and contented herself with one piece of dry toast.
The hike proceeded in order just as on the previous day. Right
after breakfast the ponchos were rolled and the pathfinders
struck the trail through the woods. The first note left by them
read: "10:30. First rest. 'Ware the pest!"
"Wonder what they meant by that?" said Hinpoha to Migwan. They
soon found out. At the last blaze the path dipped into dense
woods. From all sides rose a cloud of mosquitoes which settled
on every exposed portion of their persons and stung viciously.
"Ooo, wow!" they cried, breaking into a run and brushing the
mosquitoes off with branches. Before they entered the next
woods they stripped the bark off a fallen birch log and made
leggings of it, tying them on with their handkerchiefs.
Migwan made up a song as they went along and taught it to
Hinpoha. The tune was "Solomon Levi:"
"Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red,
Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led,
We follow the blazes through the wood like hounds upon the hunt,
We keep our feet upon the path and our faces to the front!
Oh, Winnebagos! 'Bagos, tra la la la,
Oh, Winnebagos! 'Bagos, tra la la la la la la,
Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red,
Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led!"
"I suppose you'll be a great poet when you grow up," said
Hinpoha, stooping to pick a cluster of ripe strawberries.
Migwan sighed. "No, I'll never be a great poet," she answered,
"but I may be able to write stories in time, if I learn enough
about composition."
"What college are you going to?" asked Hinpoha.
"I'm not going at all," said Migwan seriously. "You know, since
father died we have had to live very carefully, and high school
is all mother can do for me. I have to go to work as soon as I
graduate."
"It's too bad," sympathized Hinpoha. "You ought to go to college
more than any of us. Here am I, with no more brains than a
rabbit, going to Smith. It isn't fair. Can't you work your way
through and go anyhow?"
Migwan shook her head. "You see, we will need the money I earn
to send Betty and Tom to high school."
Thus talking earnestly they followed the blazes until they came
to a place where the path divided around a very dense piece of
woods. "You take one path, and I'll take the other," said
Migwan, "and we'll see who comes out first." They separated and
Migwan plunged into the darker of the two paths. It was hard
breaking through. Small scrub pines closed over the path, their
branches intertwined, so that more than once she had to use her
hatchet. Roots and vines tangled her feet and made her stumble.
Then she wedged her foot in between two stumps and could not get
it out. She pulled and twisted and finally grasped hold of the
stem of a small tree and braced herself firmly while she
endeavored to free herself. With a sudden jerk her foot came
free, and at the same instant the tree came up by the roots, the
ground caved in beneath it and Migwan began to fall. She now
discovered what she had not noticed before, that the path was on
the edge of a very deep ravine which was hidden by the thick
bushes. Straight down she rolled for about fifty feet, vainly
trying to stop herself by grasping the small bushes. Deep down
in the gully she came to a stop not two feet away from a small
stream.
"I'm not dead, anyhow," was her first thought as she scrambled to
her feet. A red-hot stab of agony went through her left knee and
she sank down again, white and faint. "Dislocated," she said to
herself after inspecting the injured member. "Let's see if I can
put it back." Migwan had had First-Aid work and had learned to
set dislocations, so she slipped the joint back into place before
it could get a chance to swell, and bound it fast with a strip of
the bandage the girls always carried with them. At that the pain
made her sick to her stomach and she lay back, her head reeling.
When she could see clearly again she sat up and looked around.
It was nearly dark, as the thick pines shut out the declining
rays of the sun. She called aloud till the echoes rang, but
there was no answering call. The gravity of the situation came
home to her, but Migwan was not one to whimper. She had nothing
with her to eat, but there was clear water at hand and she drank
and bathed her scratched face and hands. Then she lay still and
thought things out.
"They'll surely find me sometime," she reflected, "for Hinpoha
knows which path I took. The cave-in will tell the tale.
There's nothing in the woods to hurt me, either man or beast. My
knee is back in joint and will begin to heal while I stay here.
Things might have been worse." Beside her lay a dry pine tree
and she chopped it up and built a fire. For a long time she lay
looking up at the great pines above her, lost in romantic
fancies, her beautiful, expressive eyes shining in the firelight.
By and by she slept, her head pillowed on her sweater.
She was aroused by the squalling of the jays in the pine trees.
Sunlight was filtering down through the branches. She felt
chilly from her sleep on the ground, although the trees had kept
the dew from her. Sitting up, she exercised her arms to get up
the circulation. Then, leaning on a heavy stick and hobbling on
one foot, she began to look about her. Not far from where she
had fallen there was an opening in the undergrowth and through
this Migwan could see another path about six feet lower down the
slope.
"I wonder if they would come this way," thought Migwan. "I had
better put a blaze in the road so they can find me." She was
casting about for something that would attract the attention of
the searchers when she heard footsteps coming down the path.
"They're coming," she thought, and was just ready to fall on
Hinpoha's neck, when out of the woods came two men, one of them
carrying a little boy. A few paces from where Migwan stood,
hidden by a large tree trunk, they came to a halt, and the one
man, pulling out a purse, began to count money. The little boy
was dressed in a white sailor suit and hat, and his hair under
the hat brim was yellow and curly. A beam of sunlight fell
directly on him, making such a pretty picture that Migwan could
not help snap-shotting him. Her camera still hung around her
neck in its case, having luckily escaped injury by her fall.
Then she stepped out and called to the men. Both started
violently. Migwan hastened to explain her plight.
"Sorry we can't carry you along," said the man with the purse,
"but we have to catch the boat at the lake and that would make us
miss it."
"Can't you tell someone where I am?" asked Migwan.
"Why, yes, yes," answered the man, pulling out his watch. "We'll
send some one for you." They disappeared down the path at a
quick pace, and Migwan sat down by the opening and waited.
Hinpoha, following the path taken by the leaders, was tripping
blithely along, not looking where she was going, with the result
that she ran into a pine branch which caught her long hair, and
in freeing herself broke the chain of her locket, which slipped
to the ground and hid among the leaves. Hinpoha got down on her
knees and hunted for it. The minutes passed, but still she did
not find it. She did not worry about Migwan because she knew she
would wait where the paths met. Chapa and Gladys caught up and
helped her search, and finally they found it. Upon reaching the
main path, however, they did not see Migwan. "Probably got tired
waiting and went on by herself," said Hinpoha. "Serves me
right." And she walked on with Gladys and Chapa.
Two hours later they reached camp, and Hinpoha began calling
around for Migwan, but there was no sign of her. "Are you sure
she isn't hiding about the camp to surprise us?" asked Hinpoha
hopefully. Sahwah seized the bugle and blew the call which
meant, "Come at once, no matter what you are doing," but there
was no answer. Thoroughly frightened, they started back on the
trail, meeting Nyoda and Medmangi just coming in. At the story
of Migwan's disappearance Nyoda immediately planned a search.
But first of all she insisted on the girls eating their supper.
Then she reminded them that they had walked fifteen miles that
day and most of them needed rest. Hinpoha stoutly maintained
that she was as fresh as a May morning and declared she would
walk all night to find Migwan. "What if she never comes back!"
she wailed. Her knees gave way under her at the thought and she
sank down at Nyoda's feet, her head on her arms.
"Of course she'll come back," said Nyoda confidently, but her
heart was like water within her. These girls were all in her
charge for the summer and she was responsible for their welfare.
What had become of Migwan? The party that finally started out
were Nyoda, Hinpoha, Sahwah and the man who had watched the camp
while the girls were away, who drove his wagon along the roadway
and let the girls ride in turn. They explored the woods back to
where the two paths emerged from the thicket, calling and
searching with lanterns. All to no purpose. They went over
every inch of the path down which Migwan had disappeared. Now
Migwan, in coming through, had strayed off the path, which was
very hard to follow, and the place where she had gone over the
edge was at least twenty feet from the true path. The searchers
therefore did not find the evidence of her fall, and as the time
when they stood there and called to her corresponded with the
time when Migwan lay in a dead faint, she made no response, and
they passed on.
The night wore on and the searchers grew more and more alarmed.
Hinpoha dissolved in tears and declared she just couldn't live
without Migwan. Nyoda tried to comfort her with all sorts of
cheering possibilities, but her own heart was troubled and
anxious. They retraced their route back to the place where they
had camped the night before, but found nothing. Then, discouraged
and panic-stricken, they began to retrace their steps to camp.
Morning light brought a new disclosure. Not only had they lost
Migwan somewhere in the great woods, but they themselves were
completely off the trail of the day before. At one of the dim
cross-roads they had made a misturn, and were now wandering
around without the slightest notion of where they were going.
"Well, I'll be jiggered," said the man with the wagon. "I thought
I knew these here woods pretty well, but I'm blamed if I know
where we are now. Everything looks turned around; I'd swear now,
that that was the west over there, yet there is the sun a-risin'
as big as life. I'm plumb addled!"
They advanced uncertainly, looking closely for the red-marked
trees of the hike. "This road looks as if it went somewhere,"
said Hinpoha. They stuck to the road for a while but soon saw a
sign board reading, "Cambridge, 7 miles." Cambridge was a town
lying exactly in the opposite direction from Loon Lake.
Bewildered, they turned back and Hinpoha left the main road and
followed a narrow path that led into the woods. Wearily Nyoda
walked after her. She was at her wits' end.
"It's no use, Hinpoha," she said sadly. "This path isn't any
better than the road. We never went through this gully on the
hike."
"Still, it might lead to one we know," answered Hinpoha, and they
kept on. The path seemed endless, and was hard to walk in, for it
was on the side of a hill.
"Let's turn back," pleaded Nyoda. "We're only wasting our
strength without getting anywhere."
"Maybe we had better," answered Hinpoha in a discouraged tone.
Just then the path turned sharply, and as they rounded the corner
they came upon a figure sitting in the long grass. "Migwan!"
cried Nyoda, and stood as if petrified. Hinpoha pointed her
finger and tried to sing "O'ertaken," but burst into tears
instead and fell on Migwan's neck. Explanations were soon made
and Migwan was carried to the wagon to be petted and fussed over
as if she had been lost for a year.
So, wearied but triumphant, the hunting party returned to camp
with the trophy of the chase.