BLUEBERRY ISLAND.
Gladys sat poring over the list of honors in the Handbook,
looking for new worlds to conquer. She had been a Wood Gatherer
for several weeks and was hoping to be made a Fire Maker before
the end of the summer. With considerable pride she painted in
the pictographs on her record sheet which stood for the honors
already won. "Swim one hundred yards"--was it really true? At
the beginning of the summer this honor had seemed as unattainable
as flying the same distance in the air. She was also learning to
recognize the different birds, trees and flowers that she found
in the woods and along the roads. She was a very much surprised
girl indeed when Nyoda pointed out at least a half dozen
different varieties of ferns and grasses on one afternoon's walk.
"Are there different kinds of ferns and grasses?" she asked in
astonishment. "I thought grass was just grass and ferns were just
ferns, and that was all there was to it." Winning honors had
become a fascinating game, and she read carefully through the
list, putting a mark opposite those she thought she could
accomplish before the next Council Fire.
Sahwah, sitting near her similarly occupied, suddenly called to
Nyoda. "How about all of us winning this honor for planning an
outing to include as many boys as girls?" she asked. "We have
never had our trip to Blueberry Island, and it would be fun to
have the boys along for a whole day." All the girls immediately
shouted their approval and Nyoda said it would be a fine idea.
"We'll have to go in a couple of days, though, for the blueberries
will not last much longer," she said. "We'll ask them this very
day." Nyoda delivered the invitation in person. Sherry, the
Counsellor, who had escorted the boys the other night, was
mending the dock when she approached in the _Sunbeam_, and was
very much surprised and delighted to see her. He received the
idea of a joint excursion with enthusiasm, but said he would have
to wait until the camp director returned from a day's trip with
three of the older boys before he could accept definitely. He
would let her know in the evening. Now Sherry knew well enough
that there was no question about accepting the invitation, but he
had a sudden feeling that a visit to Camp Winnebago that night
would benefit his health considerably, and so delayed his answer.
Nyoda returned to camp and reported the result of her mission,
and the girls settled down to wait for definite news. "Ned
Roberts told me he wished they could come over every night;" said
Sahwah, poising her woodblock in the air preparatory to stamping
it down on the table cover she was decorating.
"Gracious!" said Migwan, "what a bore that would be! We'd never
get anything done for ourselves, because we'd spend all day
getting ready for them." Migwan begrudged every minute that she
lost from the book she was making for Professor Bentley.
"It's impossible anyway," said Gladys in a tone of finality,
"because we haven't enough skirts to last. I'll have to let out
the belt of mine before I can wear it again. It was so tight
last night I nearly died! That reminds me," she went on, "has
anybody seen that yellow scarf I had last night when I was
dancing the 'Daffodil'? I don't seem to be able to find it this
morning." Nobody had seen the scarf, but all promised to look
through their belongings to see if it had accidentally been put
in among them. "I thought I left it hanging on the railing of
the shack," said Gladys.
"I might as well fix my skirt right away," said Sahwah, when
conjectures about the whereabouts of the scarf had ceased, "I'll
never have any more time than now." She rose and went to her
tent but returned in a few moments looking mystified. "I can't
find my white skirt," she announced. "I hung it on the tent
ropes last night because it got splashed with water in the canoe.
Has somebody taken it for a joke? Hinpoha," she cried, pointing
her finger at her, "you did it!"
Hinpoha shook her head in all seriousness. "Not guilty this
time," she said. "The funny part of it is that I saw that skirt
hanging in the moonlight after I was in bed and thought what a
good joke it would be to throw it up on top of the tent, but I
was too sleepy to get up and do it." Sahwah still suspected
Hinpoha and Hinpoha went on declaring her innocence, when the
arrival of a messenger from the Mountain Lake Camp put an end to
the discussion. "He's bringing the answer to our invitation,"
cried the girls, as the young lad came up the path from the dock.
But instead of approaching Nyoda with his message as they
expected, he asked for "Miss Gladys" and handed her the envelope.
Gladys opened the note and read:
"Dear Miss Gladys: The lateness of the hour kept us from having a
pleasant talk on the island the other night, but I hope we may
have an opportunity some other time. If I come for you to-night
will you go out canoeing with me, just you alone? And please get
permission to stay out as long as you like, as the Counsellor in
our lodge will be away to-night and if I'm not in when 'Taps'
blows nobody will know the difference.
"In hopes,
"ED ROBERTS."
Gladys flushed painfully and all the girls crowding around teased
her and asked if it was a love letter. She wrote an answer and
gave it to the boy:
"Dear Mr. Roberts: To-night is our Council Fire and naturally I
would not care to leave camp. I do not think I care to go any
other night, either, as a Winnebago could never take advantage of
a Counsellor's absence to stay out after hours. I am surprised
and disappointed in you."
The boy departed and she threw Ed's note into the fire, simply
telling the girls that he had asked her to go out canoeing that
night and that she had refused. She said nothing about the
underhand business he had proposed or the episode of the other
night. The Camp Fire leaven had done its work thoroughly, and
Gladys had fulfilled that part of the Law which reads, "Be
trustworthy."
Sherry, the Senior Counsellor, left the Mountain Lake Camp in the
gathering dusk, heading his canoe in the opposite direction from
Camp Winnebago. Far out in the lake he turned right about face
and pulled rapidly toward the Winnebago dock. A steady rain was
falling and he drew the canoe up on the sand and turned it upside
down carefully before mounting the path. He thought of course
the girls would be in the shack, and bent his steps thither, but
it was deserted; neither was there a sign of any one in the
tents. He looked into the Mess Tent and into the kitchen end of
the shack, but found no one. "Must be off for a ride," he
reflected. "No, that can't be, either, because all the boats are
in. They must have walked to the village." And with disappointment
showing in every line of his face he turned his steps back toward
his boat. Just then he heard the sound of singing coming from
somewhere.
"Burn, fire, burn,
Burn, fire, burn,
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flame!"
With ears strained to listen he began to walk toward the sound.
Soon he saw the soft glow of a fire shining through the distant
trees and hastened toward it.
"The torch shall draw them to the fire--" The wind carried the
words distinctly to his ears. Through the wet loneliness of the
woods the flame drew him like a magnet. Drawing nearer he saw a
bright fire burning high in the middle of an open space,
unchecked by the rain, and around it moved a number of black-robed
figures. He recognized the Winnebagos, clad in bathing suits and
bathing caps, and covered with their ponchos, calmly having their
Ceremonial Meeting in the pouring rain. The song over, they sat
down in a circle and went through their ritual with the water
streaming over their firelit faces. A play was enacted, which he
made out to be a pantomime presentation of "Cinderella," and he
recognized Nyoda in the guise of the fairy godmother. Hinpoha
was the prince and Migwan Cinderella. In the teeming rain she was
rescued from her ashy seat by the fireplace and borne to the
ball. As the prince bent over to fit the slipper to her foot a
perfect torrent rolled off his poncho into her lap and threatened
to swamp the romance. They plighted their troth with one hand
and held their ponchos around them with the other.
Sherry pulled his sou'wester down over his ears and standing
under the shelter of a pine tree watched the performance to the
end. "Glory, what a bunch of girls," he muttered to himself.
"Having fun out in the wet woods while our boys are sticking
around in their dry bungalows!" The Council Fire came to an end
and the girls filed out among the trees singing the goodnight
song. Of course Sherry didn't know the difference, but instead
of singing the regular words, "May the peace of our firelit
faces," most of the girls were singing, "May the peace of our
dripping noses!" Nyoda was the last to come, as she had lingered
to extinguish the fire, and Sherry placed himself directly in her
path and stepped out from behind a tree as she came along. She
started violently and flashed her bug light in his face. "Don't
be afraid," he said, embarrassed and blushing, "it's only I, come
to tell you that the boys can accept your invitation to go to
Blueberry Island next Wednesday."
"Oh," said Nyoda, lowering her bug light and laughing, "that's
very good news indeed. The girls will be glad to hear it. I
must tell them right away!"
Sherry thought to himself that the news might keep awhile, as he
had several other topics of conversation which would have
beguiled the way up to the tents, but Nyoda called out to the
girls and they came running back and swarmed all over her, and
there was no chance for the poor man to say a word. After
standing around for a few minutes he took his leave and paddled
back to Mountain Lake Camp, looking rather drenched and forlorn.
The girls spent the next day in preparation for the picnic, full
of joyous anticipation, but Gladys was filled with secret
trepidation. She knew Ed Roberts would be there, and would try
to force himself upon her, and she was afraid her pleasure would
be spoiled. She said nothing about it, however, for she feared
Nyoda would take some decisive action which might result in none
of the boys being allowed to go.
Migwan came along in the midst of the preparation and announced
that her red middy tie had disappeared. The words were hardly
out of her mouth when Hinpoha came in declaring that her bathing
cap must have evaporated, for it was gone from the tent ropes
where she had left it. The girls looked at one another with
consternation in their faces. If some one wasn't playing a joke
there must be a thief in camp! That one of the Winnebagos should
be taking the other girls' things was inconceivable. They were
bound to each other by bonds stronger than sisterhood; they knew
each other's very thoughts, almost, and to suspect one of their
number of stealing hurt worse than a blow; and yet here were
their things disappearing almost under their hands! No, the
thing was impossible. What would one Winnebago gain by taking
the other girls' clothes? She could not wear them without
instant detection and they would be worth nothing if sold. A
scarf, a white skirt with a seam burst open, a tie with a spot of
ink in it, a half-worn bathing cap--what could induce any one to
take them? The thing became uncanny.
Nyoda wondered uncomfortably how long Sherry had been in camp the
previous night before he had made himself known, and Gladys
shuddered at the possibility of Ed Roberts having a hand in it.
Each time things had disappeared some one from Mountain Lake Camp
had been over. The girls had been in the habit of leaving all
their belongings open and spread around, with never a thought for
their safety, but now they began putting them away carefully.
They all felt uncomfortable doing it and each one hoped she was
unobserved. There was an air of restraint about the camp that
had never existed before, and it reacted in a general crossness.
The singing in the evening seemed all out of tune and the fire
smoked because the wood was damp and everything had a false note
in it. Nyoda was glad when it was time to blow the bugle.
Even then there was no immediate peace. No sooner were they
settled in bed than from the lake below came the sound of a manly
voice raised in song, accompanied by the strumming of a guitar.
"There's your lover, Gladys," giggled Sahwah, "I recognize his
voice. He plays the guitar, his brother told me so." Gladys hid
her face in the pillow and the girls kept on teasing her.
"Aren't you going to reward your gallant troubadour by tossing
him a flower or a glove, or something?" called Nyoda from the
other tent.
"I'd like to toss him a rock," said Gladys savagely to herself.
Finding his efforts unrecognized, the serenader finally desisted,
and they heard the dipping of his paddle as he departed.
The girls were at work bright and early the next morning, for
they were to be ready to leave for Blueberry Island by nine.
With a great waving of paddles the boys arrived promptly on the
dot and jumped out to help stow the empty baskets for berries and
the full baskets of lunch into the boats, together with the cups
and kettles.
Gladys had been wondering all morning how she should treat Ed
Roberts and stood around so quiet and pensive that Nyoda rallied
her on her lack of spirits. "Are you so anxious to see your
troubadour that you forget to talk?" she asked.
Gladys, suddenly grown weary of all this teasing, said
vehemently, "I don't like Ed Roberts and I wish you would stop
talking about him to me."
"Don't you really like him?" said Nyoda, grown serious in an
instant.
Gladys shook her head. "He thinks I shouldn't talk to any one
but himself, and he's forever trying to get me off into corners
away from the others. All he talks is nonsense; calls me 'kid'
and 'girlie,' and actually tried to hold my hand when we were
going down to the canoes that night. It makes me tired! I wish
I didn't have to go to-day."
Nyoda puckered her brows, but thought best not to treat the
matter too seriously, and merely said, "Stay near me all day and
I don't think he will act that way."
There were sixteen of them altogether and only seven canoes,
counting the _Keewaydin_, so one canoe had to carry four. When
Nyoda got in with Sherry, Gladys got in right after her, and Ed
Roberts, who was trying to get a canoe for himself, either had to
get in also or let some one else have the place. He chose the
former and was placed as bow paddler with his back to the others
and Nyoda between him and Gladys.
The day was perfect and every one in high spirits. The berries
were thick on the Island and the baskets were filled with little
trouble. Gladys kept close to Nyoda. After a courteous greeting
she had paid no further attention to Ed, and during the picking
he stayed in the background, sulky and chagrined. When the
berries were picked Gladys went to help Nyoda make the blueberry
pudding, which was to crown the feast. Sherry sought out Ed
Roberts. "You big boob," he said, "why don't you take that
Gladys girl away from Miss Kent and keep her entertained? She's
sticking so close beside her I have no chance to talk at all.
Where are your manners, anyway, leaving her without a partner?"
Ed looked at him sourly, and then he brightened at the prospect
of having Sherry for an ally.
"If you can manage to lose her somewhere near me I'd be
delighted," he said. But Gladys steadfastly refused to be "lost"
and Nyoda was constantly requiring her assistance, so the two
were never very far away from each other.
Sahwah and Ned were having a glorious time. He was teaching her
to shoot her rifle and she was proving a very apt pupil indeed,
hitting the paper three times out of five the first round. Not
so Hinpoha, who was also being taught. She took aim with her
left eye and pulled the trigger with her right hand and the
result was that she could not even hit the tree on which the
paper was fastened. She screwed her face up into a frightful
grimace and turned her head away when she fired, as if she
expected the explosion to blow her head off. But Ned gallantly
assured her that she would be a good shot in time and never made
one remark about "the way girls do such things." Hinpoha
persisted until she had hit the paper once and then left to put
her slumgullion over the fire, assisted by Lane Allen, who had
followed her around since the first night he visited the camp.
Soon dinner was ready and the hungry crowd spread out on the
rocks to be served with good things cooked over the open fire.
"Leave room for blueberry pudding!" Gladys cautioned every one,
viewing with alarm the quantities of slumgullion and sandwiches
that were being consumed. "No danger!" laughed Ned. "I could eat
everything in sight and still have room for all the blueberry
pudding you have. Bring it on!" Gladys served every one with a
heaping big dish, and with "'Ohs" and "Ahs" of enjoyment they
sent it the way of the rest of the feast.
"Now we must heat water to wash the dishes," said Nyoda, when
every one had reached the limit of eating.
"You let us fellows attend to that," said Sherry decisively,
"it's enough that you got the dinner." He calmly took her big
cook's apron away from her and put it on himself. The boys fell
to with a will and the dishes were soon off the scene. In the
afternoon they divided the company into two parts and had a
shooting match with Sahwah's rifle. Some of the girls surprised
themselves by hitting the paper the first time, and more than one
hit the bull's eye before her round was over. Ed Roberts called
out the wrath of Sherry because he would point the gun at people,
and lost his turn in consequence, which did not improve his
temper. Later he received a sharp rebuke from Sahwah because he
wanted her to shoot at a song sparrow, and retired to the beach
by himself to mope. He was no more like his frank, courteous,
sunny-hearted twin brother than day is like night, and Nyoda
understood fully Gladys's aversion to him.
They went paddling home in the rosy sunset singing "A Perfect
Day," which it had been to every one but Ed Roberts, all vowing
that they must get together again before the camps broke up.
Long after the others were wrapped in slumber Sahwah lay staring
into the moonlight. She was never more wide awake. The night
was hot and the blankets seemed to stifle her. "I can't sleep!"
she declared to herself as she thumped her pillow for the
twentieth time, "I'm going to get up awhile."
She stepped softly out of bed, slipped on her sweater and stood
at the door of the tent looking out into the night. By and by
her feet began to move as by their own impulse and carried her
down the path to the lake. The _Keewaydin_ lay on the beach
bathed in moonlight, and scarcely knowing what she was doing she
drew it down to the water's edge, launched it and got in. She had
no thought of disobeying Nyoda by going out after bedtime; she
was not thinking at all; she was moving in a sort of wide-awake
dream. It was one of those strange wild fancies that seize girls
in their teens and she was going out to play in the moonlight
like an elf. The lake exerted its magic influence over her and
drew her to itself when awake as it had done once before in her
sleep. Straight across the lake she paddled, following the path
of the moonbeams, to where the rocky shore reared its steep
cliffs on the other side. At the base of one of the highest
cliffs there was a tiny cave and into this Sahwah steered the
_Keewaydin_. Inside it was as black as ink and so low that she
had to bend her head.
"Chaos and ancient night--"
The words came aimlessly into her mind. From afar off in the
depths of the cave came the sound of water falling. She
shuddered at the awfulness of it and backed the canoe out.
During those minutes she had spent in the cave a change had come
over the moon. It was fast becoming veiled and a heavy mist was
settling on the lake, closing around her like a mantle. She had
not the slightest idea where she was, nor in which direction she
was going. The spell of the moonlight was gone and she was wide
awake. She felt chilly and very much afraid. She lost her sense
of direction and dared not steer out toward the middle of the
lake, but kept close to the shore, following the sound of the
waves as they dashed on the rocks. A strong breeze sprang up and
the light canoe tossed like a blossom in the wind. On and on
around that great curve of the shore line she paddled, until her
arms ached from the strain.
The waves flung themselves upon the rocks with a horrible moaning
sound that chilled the marrow of her bones. Then came the
weirdest sensation that something was swimming after the boat.
It was really only the swirls made by the rocks below, but in
that queer light every wave seemed topped by a head that twisted
its neck after her and then started in pursuit. Her teeth
chattered, and her hands trembled so she could hardly hold the
paddle. Thus passed the night--fearful, unreal, endless. When
morning came the mists began to lift and she could see where she
was. She was quite close to camp, still very near to shore. She
had paddled halfway around the circumference of the lake, a
distance of nearly twelve miles. In the hush of dawn she beached
the _Keewaydin_ and crept up to bed, falling asleep immediately
from exhaustion.
No one knew that she had gone out, and she never told any one,
not even Nyoda. It was not that she was afraid to tell Nyoda
that she had broken bounds, but the whole experience seemed so
unreal to her that she did not see how she could ever explain it
at all. She knew it was not her fault and at the same time she
knew that she would never do it again, and so it remained a
secret. In fact, in a few days she was not at all sure that she
had not dreamed the whole thing--except for her shoulder, which
was lame for a week.
The morning after Sahwah's nocturnal journey the camp was thrown
into consternation by the discovery that Nyoda's sweater was
gone. The last time she remembered having it was coming home
from Blueberry Island, when she had given it to Sherry to hold
while she unpacked the cups from the canoes. This was the first
thing of value that had been taken, but it might not be the last,
and Nyoda was really worried. Sahwah's fine furs were in a trunk
in the shack, along with the rest of her presents, and she
remembered with a start that Sahwah had shown them all to the
boys when they were over. Since yesterday a distrust of Ed
Roberts sprang up in her mind, and she wondered if there could be
any connection between his determined hanging around the camp and
the disappearance of the articles. Might not the taking of the
unimportant things at first be a deliberate blind? Calling
Sahwah she made her put all the things from Canada in the trunk
and locked it securely, after first weighting it down with stones
so that it could not be carried away bodily by less than six men.
A short time later Sahwah came in in a high state of excitement.
Her bathing suit was gone! Here was trouble indeed. Sahwah would
have been sorry if the furs had been stolen, but it would not
have roused her half so much as the taking of her bathing suit.
Sahwah without a bathing suit was like a horse without a head.
"I'm going to sit up all night and watch," she declared.
"We'll all sit up, I think," said Nyoda. "If the thief comes
again he'll find a bivouac." Accordingly that night they all
stayed up, sitting in the shadow of the shack. The tents were
plainly visible in the moonlight. The place was as calm and
still as a churchyard, and did not look as if it could be the
scene of such mysterious doings. Hour after hour passed and
nothing happened. The thief had evidently changed his mind
to-night. The girls yawned and dozed and wished they were in
bed. Suddenly there was a crashing in the underbrush that made
the girls sit up as if an electric shock had passed through them.
With a rapid snapping of dry twigs and waving of tall grass the
bushes parted and a great St. Bernard puppy dashed up the path to
the tents. Seizing a bath towel that hung on a rope he worried
it for a moment with his jaws and then made off with it in the
direction he had come.
For a moment astonishment held them speechless, then Sahwah broke
into her giggle and they all screamed with laughter. The thought
of the weighted trunk overcame them and they doubled up weakly on
the shack floor. Ten minutes later the puppy was back again,
looking for something else to chew. They drove him off with
switches and he ran yelping with his tail between his legs. He
never came again. "I don't doubt but what we'll find all our
belongings scattered through the woods," said Nyoda. Which was
exactly the case. A search by daylight disclosed all the missing
articles, strewn through the various paths and hollows, all more
or less chewed, but still recognizable. Thus the specter of
suspicion that had been hovering over the camp vanished into thin
air.
In spite of the fact that Gladys had made her feeling toward Ed
Roberts perfectly plain, the nocturnal serenades continued.
Nightly at about half-past nine, they would hear a canoe scrape
on the rocks in the shadow of the great cliff, and then the voice
and the guitar would begin. For fifteen minutes or more the
songs would float up to the occupants of the tents, and then the
serenader would paddle away. The girls never gave any sign of
hearing, but this did not seem to discourage the singer any.
They had ceased to tease Gladys about Ed and were no longer
thrilled at the serenades. The business was getting monotonous.
Nyoda thought of sending word over to the head of the boys' camp
and having him put a stop to it; but this course struck her as
ridiculous and she determined to go down herself the next night
and send Ed about his business.
Accordingly, when the first strains rose from the lake the next
night, she went down the path to the foot of the cliff, while the
girls above listened breathless for what would happen. She saw
the dim figure in the canoe outlined against the tall rock and
crossed the beach toward him. "Roberts!" she called sharply, "Ed
Roberts!" The singer ceased his song at the sound of her voice
and looked around. Nyoda stopped in confusion. The youth in the
boat was not Ed Roberts. It was Sherry, the Senior Counsellor.
"You came down at last?" he said joyfully.
When Nyoda returned to the tents the girls eagerly demanded to
know "what he had said." But she waved all their questions and
sent them back to bed. Only to Gladys's, "Will he stop serenading
us now?" she returned a short, non-committal "Yes."