THE WHITE MEN'S LODGES.
"Don't stand so stiffly, Sahwah," said Gladys. "Bend your knees
a little. Let yourself go in the air the way you were always
telling me to let myself go in the water. See, this way." She
took a few graceful dancing steps back and forth in front of
Sahwah. Sahwah did her best to imitate her. "There, that's a
little better," said Gladys, "but there is lots of room for
improvement still. Now, one, two, three, point, step, point,
turn, point, step, point, turn, point, slide, slide, slide,
close." Sahwah struggled to follow her directions, poising her
free hand in the air as Gladys did. "You handle your feet fairly
well," said Gladys, "but you ought to see your face. You look as
if you were performing the most disagreeable task, and were in
perfect misery over it. Smile when you dance, and incline your
head gracefully, and don't act as if it were glued immovably onto
your shoulders." Sahwah dutifully grinned from ear to ear, and
Gladys shook her head again. "No, not like that, it makes you
look like a clown. Just smile slightly and naturally; act as if
you were enjoying yourself." Thus the lesson proceeded. Gladys
had undertaken the task of teaching Sahwah fancy dancing, and
drilled her every morning in the shack. Sahwah was eager to
learn and practised the steps until her feet ached with
weariness. "There," said Gladys, as Sahwah succeeded in
memorizing a number of steps, now we'll try it with the music.
Remember, you are impersonating a tree swaying in the wind, and
bend from your waist line. That's the right way.
"Now, everybody up for the 'Hesitation,'" she called, when
Sahwah, flushed and panting, sat down in a corner to rest. The
girls lined up briskly for their lesson. Nearly all of them knew
the correct steps of the modern society dances, but few of them
danced really well, and it was the little fine touches and graces
that Gladys was teaching them--lightness of foot, stateliness of
carriage, graceful disposing of arms and hands. Gladys had taken
charge of the entire dancing hour now, and it was the most
popular class in the whole schedule. Nyoda was a little
breathless at the way Gladys was developing into a leader. She,
who a few weeks before was not able to reach the standards which
the Winnebagos had set for themselves, was now calmly leading
them on to greater heights!
Now that Gladys had learned to swim, the next thing for her to do
was to get used to jumping into deep water. She stood out on the
end of the low springboard a long time trying to make up her mind
to go off, and finally shrank back, thoroughly disgusted with
herself, but unable to bring herself to make the leap. "Shall I
hold your hand the first time?" said Nyoda. Holding tightly to
Nyoda's hand, Gladys jumped from the board, and sank down, down
through the glassy, translucent depths, holding her breath and
trying to keep her eyes open as she had been bidden. At first
all was darkness, then a mass of bubbles became visible, then
light shone through the water and the next moment her head shot
out above the surface, and Nyoda pulled her up on the dock. It
had all happened so quickly that she had no time to be frightened.
"Why, it's _fun_," she said in amazement. All the girls laughed
at the comical expression on her face.
"Now do it alone," said Nyoda, "and this time try to right
yourself and begin to swim." Again Gladys jumped into the
depths, and as soon as her head was clear of the water struck out
of her own accord and swam around the dock. "Now come up, and
turn over on your back and float," said Nyoda. Gladys accomplished
this also. She could not overcome her astonishment at the feats
she was able to perform in the water, now that she had lost her
fear of it. She became bolder and bolder with each new trial and
finally took every one's breath away by announcing that she was
going off the top of the tower. And she did it, too, without a
moment's hesitation. There was one trick she had which caused
them all great amusement. She _would_ hold her nose when she
jumped, which Nyoda laughingly explained, was _very_ bad form
indeed. It was a sight to see her going off the tower, feet
together like a statue, one hand held straight above her head and
the other tight over her nose.
Sahwah's arm had fully healed by this time and the splints were
taken off. The old doctor tried hard to be cheerful when she came
to him the last time, but his heart had gone out of his work. He
told Sahwah about his son and showed her the Iron Cross. Led on
by her sympathetic manner, he talked a long time about Heinrich,
told her little incidents of his school days, and dwelt with
pride on the record he had made in the class room, in the
gymnasium, in the Klinik. When he spoke of the brave deed which
had won him the Iron Cross his voice sank into a reverent whisper
and his stooped figure straightened up into the bearing of a
soldier. It was no light thing to be the father of a hero! Then
he added, "But I forget, Missis Sahwah, you haf also done a brave
deed and brought honor to your family. You should also haf de
Iron Cross!"
Sahwah smiled at the idea of being decorated for "pushing a lady
by de neck across de top of de lake" as the doctor had expressed
it. She and the doctor had become great friends while he was
taking care of her arm. He had taken a great fancy to her from
the start. Sahwah had no German blood in her; she was straight
Puritan descent and knew only the few words of the German
language she had acquired in school, and pronounced them badly.
She reminded him of nothing in the Fatherland, and he was unlike
any one she had ever associated with, and yet between these two
there had sprung up the warmest kind of friendship. He opened up
his cabinet and let her handle the instruments, a thing it would
have been worth his housekeeper's life to have tried; he pulled
out old pipes and pieces of pewter and told her their stories; he
showed her pictures of his wife and little Heinrich. And Sahwah
in turn took his breath away recounting the escapades of the
Winnebagos. She made him promise to come over to camp to see her
new canoe launched. Promptly at the time appointed he came, in
his own launch, with a big straw hat shading his face and his
surgical case in his hand, "in case von of de ladies should break
her a bone."
Sahwah had named her new canoe the "_Keewaydin_," or "_Northwest
Wind_," and the launching proceeded ceremoniously. The seven
girls carried it down to the water's edge, its sides decorated
with balsam boughs, saluted it by raising it three times above
their heads at arm's length, and then held it while Migwan
recited a poem in honor of the launching:
"Out o'er the shining lake, Glide thou, my bark canoe, Out
toward the purple hills, Lovely _Keewaydin_! Swift as the
seabird's wing, Light as the ocean's foam, Speed o'er the
dancing wave, Lovely _Keewaydin_!"
The canoe was lowered to the water's edge and Sahwah and Gladys
got in and paddled out from shore, followed by the cheers of the
girls.
When the _Keewaydin_ had returned from her maiden voyage Hinpoha
and Migwan were ready with a stunt to amuse the audience. They
dramatized that classic argument between the man and his wife as
to whether the crime was committed with a knife or a scissors.
Migwan, as the husband, stoutly maintained that it was a knife,
and Hinpoha, as his spouse, fiercely declared it was a scissors.
Arguing hotly, they went out in a canoe, and soon came to blows
about the point in question. The man threw his wife overboard,
and hit her with a paddle every time she poked her head up. She
kept coming up and saying, "Scissors!" while he insisted,
"Knife!" As the story goes, the wife finally drowns, and the
last minute her fingers come up making a scissors motion.
Migwan, however, after Hinpoha went overboard, hit out so
energetically with her paddle that the canoe went over and the
climax was lost in the splash.
The girls did everything they could think of to cheer up the
doctor and made a great feast in his honor. Sahwah baked her
feathery biscuits; Migwan stirred up a pan of delicious fudge;
Hinpoha made her famous slumgullion; Nyoda broiled fish, while
the rest of the girls gathered blueberries in the woods. The
cooking must have tasted good to the doctor, for he passed his
plate three times for slumgullion and ate so many biscuits he
lost count. Hinpoha, too, throwing her vow of abstinence to the
winds, ate until she groaned, and while she was clearing away the
dishes finished up all that was left of the fudge and the
blueberries. The doctor took his leave in the afternoon,
declaring he had never eaten anything so good as Sahwah's
biscuits. "She can make," he said impressively, "better biscuits
dan my grandmama, and she made de best biscuits in Hamburg!"
Strange to say, the girls were not very hungry at supper time,
and ate nothing but wafers and lemonade.
"Where are you going with your blankets?" said Nyoda, stopping in
surprise as she met Migwan coming out of her tent with all her
bedding in her arms.
"I'm going to sleep in the tree-house," answered Migwan.
"Sleep in the tree-house?" echoed Nyoda, "isn't there room enough
in the tent?"
"Oh, there's room enough," said Migwan, "that isn't the reason.
I just want to do it for the experience. I was lying awake the
other night, listening to the wind singing through the treetops,
and I thought of all the little birds sleeping up in the trees,
and decided I would try it and see what it was like."
"Her poet's soul spurns the common earth, and she seeks the
treetops to be nearer the sky," said Nyoda banteringly. "If I
may intrude such a material question among your ethereal
desires," she continued, "how are you going to get your blankets
up there?"
Migwan stopped, a little taken aback. The tree-house was more
than thirty feet from the ground and in order to get into it the
girls had to climb up the limbs of the tree. Some of the
branches were far apart and it was quite a stretch to make the
distance, while the long space from the ground to the first
branch was notched to assure a foothold. It was easy enough
climbing empty-handed, but scrambling up there with an armful of
blankets was another matter. Nyoda watched the expression on
Migwan's face with keen amusement. This was the sort of thing she
was always doing--her poetic fancy would be kindled to a certain
idea without ever stopping to consider the practical side. But
Migwan was resourceful as well as romantic. She took in the
situation at a glance, laid her blankets at the foot of the tree,
and repaired to the kitchen, whence she presently emerged with a
long rope, made of sundry short ropes tied together and pieced
out with strips of cloth. Winding this around her waist, she
climbed the tree and fastened one end of it to the railing of the
Crow's Nest. Then she let the other end down, asked Nyoda to tie
her bedding to it, and hauled it up with the greatest ease. The
floor struck her as being far from soft when she spread her
blankets out, and by dint of much labor she also hauled up her
mattress. Then she had a further inspiration and laid the
mattress across two poles, which kept it up off the floor and
made it softer yet.
The moon and stars seemed very close, when she finally had the
bed fixed to her satisfaction and stood looking around her. In
fact, it seemed as if she could put out her hand and grasp the
Great Bear by the tail. Jupiter was just at her left hand,
peeking impudently through the branches while she undressed.
Down below the tents gleamed ghostly in the pale light.
What an airy cradle it was, after she was rolled in the blankets
and fixed comfortably for sight seeing! The breezes fiddled
through the twigs, making elfin music, and the tree-house swayed
gently. It was too beautiful to sleep through, and Migwan lay
awake hour after hour in wonder and delight, watching the moon
steer her placid course across the sky. She saw Jupiter
culminate and incline to westward; saw Arcturus sink behind the
hills, and watched the Dipper go wheeling round the pole like the
hand of an enormous clock.
Off somewhere in the woods a whip-poor-will was lamenting; the
waves splashed against the rocks below; a cricket chirped at the
foot of the tree. Migwan turned over to get a look at the view
on the other side and her pillow went overboard with a soft plop.
She leaned over the edge to see where it had gone and the poles
slid gently apart, letting the mattress down flat on the floor.
She adjusted herself to the new position and continued looking
up.
When all the stars had traveled to the morning side of the sky
she finally dropped off to sleep, only to waken again with the
first faint gray light of dawn. A frowzy, cocky-looking bird
flew into the tree just above her head and balanced himself on
the limb. He had evidently been out all night and was sneaking
home in the wee sma' hours, much the worse for dissipation. He
teetered back and forth for a moment, then began unsteadily
climbing the stairs up the branches. Migwan hoped his wife was
waiting for him at the top step, and listened to hear the curtain
lecture he would receive. She heard no uproar, however and
concluded he was a bachelor and could go and come when he
pleased.
In contrast to Migwan's peaceful night, Hinpoha lay tossing in
dire distress. She was no sooner in bed than the biscuits she had
gobbled for dinner started to make war on the slumgullion, and
the lemonade began to have words with the blueberries. The fudge
was a power unto itself and made war on all the rest. Hinpoha
tried to get up and get something to relieve herself, but she was
so dizzy she couldn't stand. A great monstrous biscuit was
sitting on the pit of her stomach, squeezing the breath out of
her, and she sank back on the pillow. Sahwah finally heard her
groan and got up and brought her some hot water, which settled
the dispute going on in her stomach.
Gladys and Sahwah were coming home from the village in the launch
one afternoon, where they had been to get the milk. It looked
like rain and they were hastening to get back to camp. Great was
their vexation, therefore, when the engine wheezed a few times
and then stopped dead still. Investigation revealed that the
gasoline had given out. "Why didn't I think to fill her up
before we left?" said Sahwah impatiently. "Here we are, out in
the middle of the lake with never an oar or a paddle, and not a
bit of breeze blowing. Why, we aren't even drifting!" To all
appearances it looked as if they were becalmed there for the rest
of the afternoon, until they would be missed from camp, and
Gladys said so, resignedly.
"I should say I won't stay here all afternoon," said Sahwah.
"I'll swim ashore first. The girls are waiting for this milk. I
wonder if anybody would see us if we ran up a distress signal?"
"What could we use for one?" asked Gladys.
Sahwah looked around for a moment and then calmly took off her
middy and waved it around her head by one sleeve. They were
hidden from camp by a bend in the shore line, but they hoped to
attract the attention of some of the other campers along the
lake. Besides waving the middy, both girls called and yodled
until they were hoarse. At last they had the satisfaction of
seeing a launch coming across the lake toward them, with a flag
waving in answer to their signal. Sahwah hastily put on her
middy again. There were two boys of about sixteen in the launch
and they stopped alongside of the _Sunbeam_ and inquired the
trouble.
"We have run out of gasoline," said Sahwah.
"Would you like us to tow you in so you can get a fill-up?" asked
the boy who was running the launch. "We're from the Mountain
Lake Camp over yonder, and have plenty of gasoline to spare."
The girls agreed and the boys threw them a tow line and off they
went toward the shore. Upon landing they found themselves in a
large summer camp for boys. Boys of every age and size from six
years up to eighteen were swarming around the dock, waiting to
see who the distressed sailors were, and the girls became the
center of interest. The two boys who had brought them in, and who
had introduced themselves as "the Roberts brothers, Ed and Ned,"
called one of the senior Counsellors and told him the trouble,
and he willingly agreed to sell Sahwah and Gladys a quantity of
gasoline. Great interest was aroused when the girls said they
were from Camp Winnebago, for the fame of some of their doings
had gone about the village, and their singing on the lake at
night had been heard by more people than they knew.
"Didn't one of your girls tow in another one with both her arms
broken?" asked one of the boys standing near. Sahwah and Gladys
laughed outright at this version of the story. When Gladys
announced that Sahwah was the heroine in question and she the
nearly drowned maiden a ripple went went through the camp.
"I don't see how you ever did it," said another of the boys,
"you're so little!" Sahwah was sorely tempted to do one of her
famous dives right then and there, only she knew that such an
exhibition would be entirely out of place, and so restrained
herself. It began to rain while they were waiting for the
gasoline and the Counsellor insisted upon their remaining until
it stopped, and took them up into one of the bungalows in which
the boys lived.
Before they left he showed them all over the camp. The boys
lived in little wooden lodges called Senior and Junior Lodges,
the younger ones on one side of the camp and the older ones on
the other. They were divided into three classes according to
their swimming ability, namely, minnows, perch and salmon, and
the different groups had different swimming hours.
"Do you have different grades in swimming, too?" asked Ned
Roberts.
"No," replied Sahwah, "we're all salmon!" Ned looked at Gladys
expressively and Sahwah read his meaning. "Oh, she swims
beautifully now," she said loyally.
"At any rate, I wouldn't have to be rescued any more, even if I
don't classify as a salmon," said Gladys.
Sahwah could not help noticing how much Gladys was at her ease
among these boys. Her eyes sparkled and her lips smiled and she
displayed a lively interest in all that they showed her. One of
the Roberts boys, Ed, was quite taken with her and determined to
see more of her before the summer was over. When they took their
departure these two boys asked permission to call on her and
Sahwah. "Wouldn't you like to bring some more of the boys, and
come and see all of us?" said Gladys.
"I'll bring the boys over sometime," promised the Counsellor.
The very next morning a twelve-year-old boy wearing the uniform
of the Mountain Lake Camp came in a launch and presented a note
to Nyoda. It read:
"Mountain Lake Camp sends greetings to Camp Winnebago and begs
permission to send a delegation to call and pay its respects."
Nyoda wrote in answer:
"Camp Winnebago heartily returns Mountain Lake Camp's greetings
and begs to say that it will be at home this very sundown."
What a flutter of excitement there was after the envoy had gone!
Gladys and Sahwah were overwhelmed with questions about the boys
and conjectures as to how many and which ones were coming. Tents
were cleaned and put in such order as they had never known
before; the shack was decorated with grasses and wild flowers;
canoe cushions were brushed; songs were practised and lemons
squeezed, that everything might be in readiness for the visitors!
Skirts which had not been worn since the beginning of summer were
brought out of trunks and the wrinkles pressed out. Then there
rose such a chorus of exclamations that the birds stopped their
own chattering to listen.
"Oh, I can't get my skirt shut!" "Why, I can't either! Not by
two inches!" "Oh, fudge! There goes the button!" From every
side came the same wail. Not a girl there who had not gained from
five to fifteen pounds, and the tight skirts, made to fit in
their slenderer days, were a sorry sight. "What _will_ we do,
Nyoda?" they groaned to their Guardian, who was in the same
plight herself.
"The only thing we can do," said Nyoda, "inasmuch as we haven't
time to make them over, is for all of us to wear our white linen
skirts with our middies outside, so it won't show how much they
gap. And let this be a solemn warning to every girl to look over
her clothes before it is time to go home!"
Promptly at sundown four canoes appeared around the cliff, each
manned by two paddlers, and drew up alongside the Winnebago dock,
where the girls stood to welcome them. The Counsellor who had
shown Sahwah and Gladys around the boys' camp was there, and the
Roberts brothers and five more of the senior campers. Ed Roberts
looked around for Gladys the first thing, and his brother for
Sahwah, while the rest paired off with the other girls as they
went up the hill to the shack. Nyoda was not very fond of having
her company sitting around in pairs and immediately started them
to playing games which took them all in, and followed the games
up with a Virginia Reel. Ed Roberts was filled with impatience
at this method of entertainment, for it gave him no chance to
monopolize Gladys as he would have liked to. He saw that she was
a good dancer and was eager to try a new Hesitation step with
her.
By and by Gladys slipped from the room and returned dressed in a
fancy dancing costume. Poising on her toes as lightly as a
butterfly, she did some of her choicest dances--"The Dance of the
Snowflake," "The Daffodil," "The Fairy in the Fountain." The
admiration of the boys knew no bounds, and she received a perfect
ovation.
"Now, Sahwah, do your dance," commanded Nyoda. Sahwah shrank
back and did not want to, saying that after Gladys's performance
anything she could do would seem pitifully flat. But the boys
all urged her to try it, and at last she allowed herself to be
led out on the floor by Gladys. She was still in an agony of
embarrassment and wished the floor would open and swallow her,
but it was a rule of the Winnebagos that if they were called on
to perform for the entertainment of visitors they must do the
thing called for to the best of their ability, and Sahwah knew
that if she refused to dance the reckoning with Nyoda would be
worse than the embarrassment of dancing, so she swallowed hard
and went to work. She got through it very creditably indeed and
was rewarded with hearty applause, which made her more fussed
than ever.
Then boys and girls alike clamored to be allowed to "just dance"
and Ed Roberts had plenty of opportunity to try his new
Hesitation with Gladys. But after she had danced three or four
times with him in succession she left him for another partner.
This made him cross and he would not ask any one else to dance
until a quiet word from his Counsellor sent him rather unwillingly
on to the floor again. "Mayn't I have this one?" he pleaded
every time after that, but Gladys smilingly declined, saying she
had promised every one of the boys a dance and would not get
around if she gave him any more, to which he assented politely,
fuming inwardly, and wanted Gladys to himself more than ever.
"Bet I don't get another dance with her to-night," he thought
crossly, and this was exactly the case, for Nyoda presently
suggested lemonade and the dancing stopped.
It was nearly nine o'clock by this time, but the boys pleaded so
hard for a ride on the lake in the canoes that Nyoda yielded and
granted fifteen minutes extra. Ed Roberts took immediate
possession of Gladys and led her into his canoe before she had
time to say a word. He pushed off before there was time to put
any one else in with them, for some of the canoes had to carry
four. As they paddled through the moonlit water the girls sang
"Across the Silver'd Lake" and by and by the boys added a few
bass and tenor notes to it. Fairly in tune now they sang song
after song in time to the dipping of their paddles.
"How much better any song sounds with a bass to it!" said Nyoda
to the Counsellor in the canoe with her, which remark, though
merely an effort to start a conversation on Nyoda's part, caused
the Counsellor to flush to the roots of his hair and get
completely out of stroke.
Sahwah, up at the head of the procession with Ned Roberts, was in
her element. He was a fine paddler and his stroke matched hers
exactly. They were in her own little canoe, the _Keewaydin_, and
as it was so much lighter than the others they were continually
getting ahead. She taught him the "silent" paddle of the
Indians, which they used to hide their approach, twisting the
paddle around under the surface to avoid the sound of dipping.
She told him about the rifle which Gladys's father had sent her,
and he promised to teach her to shoot it when the boys made the
all-day visit which Nyoda had suggested.
Ed Roberts managed to keep himself and Gladys at the tail of the
procession. He was continually stopping to let the canoe drift
and gradually widening the distance between them and the others.
When they rounded one of the little islands he stopped so long
that the first canoes got out of sight around the bend, leaving
them hidden behind the island. Gladys would have paddled on, but
he begged her to stop and talk awhile. "Let's land on the island
and sit on the rocks in the moonlight," he proposed. Gladys
refused.
"Nyoda wouldn't like it," she said, "and it's past our bed time
already. The other canoes have started for home."
"O bother bed time!" said Ed petulantly. "Who could bear to go
to bed on a night like this? Besides, you can tell Miss Kent
that I broke my paddle and we had trouble getting home."
Gladys shook her head indignantly. "I'll do no such thing," she
said. "You take me home immediately, Ed Roberts, or I'll send
out a call for Nyoda." Sulkily he picked up his paddle and dipped
it in the water. Gladys paddled so energetically that they soon
came up with the others and landed at the dock with them, and as
the rest had been so occupied with their own affairs the
disappearance of the one canoe for several minutes had gone
unnoticed. The boys shook hands all around and departed in their
canoes, singing until they disappeared around the cliff.