Being Chief that week it was Katherine’s duty to blow the rising horn in the morning. The day after the return from the canoe trip was the morning for war canoe practice. The crew practised three mornings a week before breakfast. Katherine, who had gone to sleep with the idea firmly fixed in her mind that she must wake by a quarter to seven so that she could rouse the others, awoke with a start, dreaming that she had overslept and the others had tied her in her bed and gone off without her. The world was dull and grey and covered with a chilly mist. There was nothing to inspire a desire to go war canoe practicing. Katherine was still tired from the strenuous paddling of the past two days, and she stretched in delicious comfort under the covers. Then she pulled her watch from under her pillow and looked at it.

“Gracious!” she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed. “It’s ten after seven. I have overslept! It’s so grey this morning it seems much earlier.”

She seized the horn and blew a mighty blast at the other girls, who were still sleeping peacefully. One by one they opened their eyes drowsily.

“Get up!” shouted Katherine. “We’ve overslept! 110 This is the morning for crew practice and it’s ten after seven already.”

“Seems as if I’d just fallen asleep,” grumbled Hinpoha, half rising from the pillow and then sinking down into its warm depths again.

“It’s horrid and misty out,” sighed Gladys. “Do we have crew practice if it isn’t a nice day?”

“We certainly do,” said Katherine emphatically, buttoning the last button of her bathing suit and departing to wake the others.

In the next tent she encountered the same sleepy protest. “I didn’t think we went out when it was misty,” said Migwan, regretfully leaving the warm embrace of her blankets.

“I’m so comfortable,” sighed Nakwisi.

Katherine stood in the doorway with arms akimbo and delivered her mind. “What kind of sports are you, anyway? Just because it’s cold and misty you want to stay in bed all day and sleep. It’s no test of energy to get out on a fine morning and paddle a canoe, that’s pure fun; a cold, wet day is the real test of sportsmanship. What kind of Winnebagos are you? You sing:

“‘We always think the weather’s fine in sunshine or in snow,’ and then when the chance comes to prove it you back down.”

“We haven’t backed down,” said Migwan hastily, “and we aren’t going to. See, I’m up already.” And she reached for her bathing suit.

111Katherine passed out of the tent and took her position on the high place between the two encampments where her horn would awaken the boys. It took no end of lusty blowing before she heard the answering shout that told they had heard and were getting up.

“Such a bunch of sleepy heads,” she called aloud to the trees. “They paddle a few miles and think they’re killed and have to sleep a week to make up for it. I won’t have it while I’m Chief. We must get hardened down to all kinds of weather or else we’re not true sports.” And she marched back to her tent to see that none of the girls had slipped back to bed while she was out. They were all grumbling and yawning, but were dutifully getting into their bathing suits.

“Mine’s wet,” wailed Hinpoha, “and–ouch! it’s cold. I forgot to hang it up after our swim last night. I think it’s cruelty to animals to make a person get into a wet bathing suit.”

“Serves you right for not hanging it up,” said Katherine imperturbably.

It was a chilly and unenthusiastic crew that manned the war canoe a few minutes later. The boys had been just as reluctant to leave their beds as the girls, though none of them would admit it. Katherine lectured them all on their doleful countenances and repeated her remarks about the test of sportsmanship. After that nobody dared open 112 their mouths about the unpleasantness of the weather; in dogged silence they dipped their paddles and pushed out into the greyness.

“Sing something,” commanded Katherine, “and put a little life into your paddling! Ready now, ‘We pull long, we pull strong.’”

And obediently they opened their mouths and sang, but it sounded all out of tune and they couldn’t keep together no matter how hard they tried.

“Did the lake ever look so big and cold to you before?” asked Hinpoha in a forlorn voice after the attempt at singing had been given up.

“And St. Pierre looks about a thousand miles away, and all grey and shabby,” said Gladys.

“Do you think it will rain so much today that we can’t go over to St. Pierre with the little launch engine?” asked the Captain.

“No telling,” said Uncle Teddy, vainly trying to stifle a telltale yawn. Uncle Teddy was secretly wishing that Katherine had overslept with the rest of them and did not have such a tremendous idea of good sportsmanship. But, being a thorough sport, he shook himself out of his drowsiness and shouted the paddling commands lustily.

“One, two! One, two! Click stroke! Ready, dip!”

And the paddles clicked and dipped, as the paddlers began to feel the energy rising in their systems.

113“Water wheel!” shouted Uncle Teddy, and the paddles flashed backward in a wide circle between each dip.

“Wasn’t that fun?” said Sahwah. “I’m getting wider awake every minute. You were right about making us get up, Katherine. If I’d slept as long as I wanted to I’d have felt ‘dumpy’ all day, but now I feel fine and just full of pep.”

“So do I,” said Gladys.

“I don’t,” said Hinpoha dolefully. “I guess I’m not much of a sport, but I’m getting sleepier every minute.”

“You girls talk too long before you go to sleep nights,” said the Captain. “That’s why you’re not ready to get up in the morning. We can hear you away down in our tents, long after we’re asleep.”

“How can you hear us after you’re asleep?” demanded Katherine, and the Captain, caught in a bull, subsided in confusion.

“Well, anyway,” said Hinpoha, “I’m going back to bed as soon as we land and sleep until breakfast time. I’m not going for a dip this morning.”

“You can’t sleep,” said Katherine, the martinet, “you’re on breakfast duty. And you’ll have to step lively at that, for it’s late this morning and the animals will all be hungry.”

“What time is it?” asked Sahwah.

“It must be pretty near eight,” answered Katherine. “Wait a minute until I look at my watch.” 114 She fished around in the pocket of her sweater, pulling out first half a comb, then several peanuts, and finally the watch.

“It’s ten after seven,” she said. “Why, it can’t be that–that’s what it was when I got up. The watch has stopped. I don’t know what time it is, but it must be nearly eight.”

Just then a tiny golden beam fell on the water in front of the canoe. “It’s clearing up,” said Sahwah joyfully. “It isn’t going to rain after all today.” She twisted her head upward to see where the sun was breaking through the clouds. “Why—” she exclaimed in bewilderment, “where is the sun?”

They all looked around. There was the sun, just beginning to peep over the eastern horizon. “It’s–it’s just rising!” said Katherine, dumbfounded. “Did it oversleep, too?”

“No, it didn’t,” said Uncle Teddy. “Old Sol is the one person who always wakes on time. And at this season of the year his time is about four o’clock A. M.”

“It’s only four o’clock!” they all shouted. “Katherine, you wretch, you pulled us out of our beds at half past three! You did it on purpose!”

But one glance at Katherine’s amazed face dispelled all doubts on that score, and set them into a wild gale of laughter. If ever a person was taken aback it was Katherine. “My watch must have 115 stopped at ten after seven last night,” she said sheepishly. “I remember now, I didn’t wind it. No wonder it was so grey and misty we thought it was going to rain!”

“The real test of sportsmanship!” scoffed the Captain. “I should say we were some fine sports, getting up at half past three the morning after a canoe trip and going out to crew practice!”

“And me getting into a wet bathing suit!” mourned Hinpoha. “I think I ought to have a Carnegie medal for that.”

Even the sun seemed to be laughing, as he climbed up over the rim of the water and turned the wavelets into gold. They paddled back to the dock as fast as they could go, laughing so they could hardly dip their paddles, and singing,

Arrived at the dock they scurried up the path and got back into bed as soon as they could, and journeyed back into the land of dreams without delay. Katherine refused to blow the rising horn at all, but let them sleep as long as they wanted to, and it was nine o’clock before the first one stirred. Breakfast was served at ten instead of at eight, and was the most hilarious meal they had eaten since coming to Ellen’s Isle. Song after song was made up about Katherine’s “False alarm” and her “rising qualities.” 116 Finally they rose from the table and putting their hands on each other’s shoulders they formed a circle around her and danced a snake dance, singing:

“Don’t be cross, Katherine,” said Gladys, running from the circle to put her arms around her. “We’re horrid, nasty things to make such fun of you, but it was such a good joke on you!”

“Oh, I’ll forgive you all,” said Katherine magnanimously, “but I still have a sneaking suspicion that the joke was on you!”

“All aboard for St. Pierre,” cried Uncle Teddy. “How many of you boys want to come along? Company form ranks on the pier!”

There was a wild scramble down the hill to be on time, for it was an invariable rule that those who were not there when the boat was ready to start were left behind. There was no waiting for laggards. They all made it this time and chugged out of sight, still hearing echoes of the laughter on Ellen’s Isle.

It took so long to get the engine fixed that they decided to wait over and have dinner at St. Pierre. While they were eating there a big, bronzed man 117 walked up and slapped Uncle Teddy on the shoulder. Uncle Teddy greeted him joyfully.

“Hello, Colonel Berry! Where in the firmament did you come from?”

“Oh, I just rained down,” said the big stranger, laughing. “But talking about firmaments, just what are you doing in this corner of the country?”

Uncle Teddy explained, and introduced Mr. Evans and the boys. “These are the Sandwiches,” he said, including them all in a comprehensive wave of his hand, whereat Colonel Berry roared with laughter. “Boys, meet Colonel C. C. Berry, the best woodsman in fourteen states, and the best goodfellow in the world.”

The boys acknowledged the introduction with great politeness and respect, but Colonel Berry insisted on shaking hands all around, “just as if we were senators,” the Captain explained afterward.

Mr. Evans immediately invited Colonel Berry to visit them at Ellen’s Isle, and the Sandwiches all echoed the plea eagerly, just as if he had been an old and beloved friend instead of a new acquaintance.

The colonel replied that his business would take him out of St. Pierre the following evening, but he would be delighted to run over and spend that night with them on Ellen’s Isle.

It was not without considerable pride that Mr. Evans pointed out “his island” to Colonel Berry 118 later in the afternoon as the launch approached it on their return home. The way affairs were run on that little island was something to be proud of, as he well knew, and which even a distinguished camper and woodsman must admire. The boys were busy describing the wonders of Ellen’s Isle and kept saying, “Wait until you see our girls. Wait until you see Sahwah dive off the bow of the war canoe and Gladys hold a parasol over her head when she swims. Wait until you eat some of Hinpoha’s slumgullion!”

“I’m surprised they’re not all down on the landing waiting for us,” said Mr. Evans, as they ran the launch in. “They generally are. But they’ll be down immediately.” Making a trumpet of his hands he called, “Oh, Mother! Gladys! Aunt Clara!” There was no answer. “They must be in the tents,” he said. “Come on up.” He helped the colonel up the steep path and shouted again. Still no answer. He went over to Mrs. Evans’ tent. The sides were rolled up and it was empty. So was the other one. “They must be away at the other end of the island,” said Mr. Evans. He struck into the path which led up the men’s encampment, and which ran through the “kitchen.” The fire, which was generally burning there around supper time, was carefully laid, but not lighted. “Where can they be?” said Mr. Evans to Uncle Teddy in a puzzled tone. Just then his eye fell on a piece of paper tucked under the 119 handle of the water bucket. Wonderingly he opened it and read:

“Dear men folks:

“Seeing that you have found amusement for the day we have gone on a picnic to the Point of Pines. We will stay all night if the sleeping is good. Everything is ready for supper; just help yourselves.”

“Of all things!” exclaimed Mr. Evans in vexation. “Just the day we have a guest I am particularly anxious to have them meet they take it into their heads to go off and spend the night. Where on earth is the Point of Pines?”

Nobody seemed to know just where it was, but they all remembered hearing the girls talking about it and hearing them say that some time when it was dry they were going over there by themselves with Aunt Clara and Mrs. Evans and have a “hen party.” The general idea was that the Point of Pines was a long point running out into the water on the mainland to the north of them, where the pines grew very tall and close together.

“Captain, you get into the launch and go over there and see if you can find them,” ordered Uncle Teddy. “It’s a pity to break up a ladies’ party in such a gorgeously select and private place as the Point of Pines, but they would never forgive us if we let them miss the chance to meet Colonel Berry. 120 And in the meantime, we might as well get busy on the supper. It will be some time before they come back. Slim, you tie on an apron and pare potatoes; Anthony, you fill the water buckets; Pitt, you open several cans of tomatoes.”

“Here, let me take a hand,” said the colonel, just as though he were not a guest. “I haven’t cooked in the open most of my life for nothing.” So he found an apron and fell to work mixing biscuits. The colonel was a tall man–six feet two–and the apron belonged to Migwan, who was short, and when tied around his waist line it did not reach half way to his knees. Slim’s apron was long enough, but it would not go anywhere near around him. Being unable to tie the strings he tucked the apron in over his belt and let it go as far as it would.

“Where’s the bread knife?” asked Mr. Evans, coming out of the supply tent, after rushing around inside for several minutes in a vain search.

“Slim has it paring potatoes,” said Uncle Teddy, looking around. Slim handed it over and finished the potatoes with his pocket knife. Pitt had broken the paring knife trying to open a can with it when he could not find the can opener.

“Hurry up with those potatoes, Slim,” called Uncle Teddy. “They ought to be on now in order to get cooked with the rest of the things.”

“Just finished,” said Slim, sucking his thumb, which he had that minute gashed with the knife. 121 He rose and carried the dish of pared potatoes over to the kettle of boiling water waiting to receive them, but half way over he tripped on the apron, which had slipped down under his feet, and sat down with a great splash in the kettle of tomatoes, standing on the ground awaiting its turn at the fire, while the potatoes rolled in all directions in the dirt.

Uncle Teddy and Mr. Evans and Colonel Berry came running at the noise, and after one glimpse of poor, fat Slim sitting there in the tomatoes sucking his thumb, they leaned against the trees and doubled up in helpless laughter, not one of them able to go to his rescue. Pitt and Anthony came running at the sound and joined their laughter with that of the men until the woods fairly rang.

Suddenly their laughter was echoed by a smothered giggle, which seemed to come from the sky. Startled, they looked up, to see Hinpoha’s convulsed face peering down at them between the branches of a high tree. They dropped their knives and dishes in amazement. “What are you doing up there?” gasped Mr. Evans. Hinpoha went into a perfect gale of merriment, which was echoed from all the trees around, and soon other faces were peering down between the branches–Aunt Clara’s, Mrs. Evans’, Sahwah’s, Katherine’s, Migwan’s, Antha’s, Nakwisi’s, Gladys’s. Every one of those naughty Winnebagos had been hiding in the treetops and watching the men cook supper down below!

122Still convulsed, they descended into the midst of the amazed cooks.

“I thought you said you’d gone to the Point of Pines?” said Mr. Evans, in his surprise completely forgetting to introduce Colonel Berry.

“We did,” replied Mrs. Evans sweetly. “It wasn’t our fault that you misunderstood our note.”

“I’d like to see anybody that wouldn’t have misunderstood it,” retorted Mr. Evans.

“Don’t be cross, dearest,” said Mrs. Evans, still more sweetly. “Of course you misunderstood our note; we meant that you should. You have played so many tricks on us that we thought it was time we played one on you. We intended to stay up there until you had supper all ready and then come down to the feast, and planned on a nice enjoyable time seeing you work. But the reality surpassed the expectation by a hundred miles. We never expected to see such a show as we did. When you sent the searching party out after us we were nearly convulsed; the spectacle of Slim sitting there in that apron paring potatoes with the butcher knife was almost fatal to the branch I sat on; but when he tripped and sat down in the tomato kettle it was beyond human endurance and we just naturally exploded. Now won’t you forgive us and introduce your guest? He seems to have made himself quite at home already.”

Mr. Evans came to himself with a start and performed 123 the introduction. It was impossible to be formal with the colonel in that ridiculous short apron, and every introduction was accompanied by a fresh peal of laughter.

“The idea of deceiving your good husband like that,” said the colonel, “and deliberately writing misleading notes! I shall entertain a very equivocal opinion of you young ladies,” he continued with twinkling eyes. “The Point of Pines, indeed!”

“Well, weren’t we at the Point of Pines, I’d like to know?” demanded Katherine. “There was the point of a pine poking me in the back all the while. If you’d been up in that pine you would have appreciated the point. And if we couldn’t get down again we would have had to stay there all night.”

Supper was ready to serve before anybody remembered about the Captain, who had been sent over to the real Point of Pines to look for the girls. Slim and Pitt immediately went after him and met him when they had gone half way across the lake, returning to camp with the discouraging news that he had not been able to find anybody on the Point.

“Was there ever such a topsy turvy day as this?” asked Gladys, as they sat around the glowing camp fire that night after supper. “First Katherine gets us up at half past three on a false alarm; we have crew practice and then go back to bed and don’t get up until nine. And things have kept happening all day until the grand climax just now. Some days 124 stand out like that from all others as the day on which everything happened.”

Colonel Berry was a delightful talker and told many stories of his life as a guide in northwestern Canada, as well as many anecdotes of the Indians among whom he lived for some time.

“Colonel Berry,” said Hinpoha during one of the pauses in his speech, “may I ask you something?”

“Ask anything you want?” replied the colonel gallantly.

“Did the Indians ever bury anything under stones?”

“Did the Indians ever bury anything under stones?” repeated the colonel. “You mean the bodies of their dead? Customs varied as to that. Some tribes buried their dead in the ground, some left them on mountain tops unburied, and some wrapped the bodies and placed them in trees.”

“I don’t know whether I mean people or not,” said Hinpoha, and told about finding the marked rock in the ravine.

“It is barely possible that something is buried there,” said the colonel, “although rocks have been marked for a good many reasons.”

“It seemed such a good place to hide something,” said Sahwah shrewdly. “The ravine itself was dark and hard to get into, but it was easy to find your way back to it if you had been there once, because all you had to do was keep on going until you had 125 passed seven big cedar trees. If we picked our way through the woods by that trail, other people probably have done the same thing. Maybe the Indians buried something there they intended to come back after, and marked the rock they put it under.”

“Possibly,” said the colonel doubtfully. “A great many Indian relics have been dug up around the shores of these lakes; arrow heads, pieces of pottery and ornaments of various kinds. Such things might have been buried before a hasty flight and never recovered.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was something buried under that rock, and we should go there and dig it up!” said Hinpoha, half starting up in her excitement.

“Mind, I’m not saying there is anything buried there,” said the Colonel hastily. “I only said it was remotely possible. The Indians have been gone from this region for so long that it is not safe to speculate upon anything they might have left. I only know that from time to time things have been found accidentally.”

“Do you think we’d better dig?” asked Hinpoha eagerly.

“Well, there wouldn’t be any harm in it,” said the colonel quizzically. “You might find something of interest, and if you don’t–digging is good exercise.” And there the subject was left.

126“Tell us a real Indian story,” begged Gladys of the colonel. “A story of the old Indians.”

The colonel obligingly consented and told them a tale as follows:

THE STORY OF BLUE ELK

“Blue Elk was the son of a Chieftain. During his boyhood the tribe to which he belonged lived in the barren, hilly country lying to the north of our great plains. They were forced to live there by their enemies, who drove them out of the fertile hunting grounds which were theirs by right. Thus the tribe was poor and had very few horses and other things which the Indians counted as wealth. Their war costumes were not nearly so splendid as those of other tribes and their women had very few ornaments. They often had hard work getting enough to eat, for they lived far away from the places where the buffalo were plentiful, and when the winter was long and hard there was much suffering.

“Blue Elk, though only a boy, thought deeply on the condition of his people. He wanted them to be rich and powerful as other tribes were. When he reached the age where the Indian youth leaves boyhood behind him and becomes a brave, he entered upon a fast, as every Indian boy must do before he can be counted a man. He first built a sweat lodge and purified himself with the steam bath; then he 127 blackened his face and went off by himself to a lonely rock ledge up the side of the mountain where he stayed for three days without eating anything, watching for some sign from the Great Spirit, which would be a guide for his future life.

“To the Indian this fast is of great significance. It is the conquering of the body by the mind; the freeing of the soul from the desires of the flesh. To him the silence around him is the Great Mystery, and he believes that during this time he talks face to face with the Great Spirit.

“Blue Elk lay for a long time, his soul steeped in profound peace, waiting for the Great Spirit to speak to him through some phenomenon of nature. There was only one wish in his heart; that through him his people might become prosperous and great. At last he fell asleep and dreamed that the Great Spirit stood before him in the form of a white buffalo and spoke thus: ‘Where the two bright eyes of heaven (the Twin Stars) are seen shining at noonday, there will the fortune of my people be found.’

“Blue Elk awoke much perplexed at this message from the Great Spirit. What could it mean? ‘It is not possible for the Two Stars to shine at midday,’ he said. But that was the message the Great Spirit had given him, and so great was his faith that he never doubted for a moment that a miracle would occur which would bring about the fortune of his people.

128“Time passed on; Blue Elk became a brave and went on the warpath and brought home the scalps of many enemies. But the tribe was still poor and the winter often brought famine. One day when Blue Elk was being hotly pursued by a band of enemies he hid in a deep cave in the side of a hill. Faint and exhausted he flung himself on the floor. As his eyes turned upward in a prayer to the Great Spirit he saw there was an opening high up in the top of the cave and through the dark shaft thus formed the Twin Stars were shining brightly. He sprang to his feet in amazement and wonder, the words of the prophecy coming back to him. ‘Where the two bright eyes of heaven are seen shining at noonday, there will the fortune of my people be found.’ It was just midday. And there were the stars shining down the shaft. The Great Spirit had brought the miracle to pass! But where was the fortune? Forgetting that he was hard pressed by the enemies, Blue Elk ran from the cave. His pursuers were nowhere in sight. He looked eagerly into the sky to behold the sight of the stars shining in daylight. They had vanished. Was it a dream, a trick of the imagination?

“He ran back into the cave and there were the stars shining as brightly as before. Then the truth came to him. The Great Spirit had said that where the stars shone there would the fortune be found. They were not shining outside, there was no fortune 129 there; they were shining in the cave, so the fortune was in the cave. He looked around carefully. On the floor were some pieces of what he thought were stones. But they glittered in a strange way. ‘The stars have come down into the stones!’ said Blue Elk. ‘These Star Stones are the fortune of my people!’ (The Star Stones were silver ore.) And a fortune they proved to be. With them his people were able to buy peace with the surrounding tribes and extend their hunting grounds so that they no longer wanted for food or skins or blankets. And Blue Elk believed firmly to his dying day that the Great Spirit had spoken to him in person during his fast on the mountain.”

“Oh, what a lovely story!” said Gladys. “Thank you very much for telling it. Is it a true story?”

“The Indian who told it to me certainly believed it,” replied Colonel Berry.

“But,” objected the practical Sahwah, “how was it possible for the stars to shine in daylight?”

“Have you ever looked up through a very tall chimney?” asked the colonel. “By looking through a long, dark, narrow shaft it is possible to see the stars in daylight. I myself have seen the Little Dipper at noonday in that manner. You will remember that Blue Elk was in a cave in a hillside. A long, narrow passage through the rocks led to a hole in the roof. Looking through this he saw the Twin 130 Stars, and the supposed miracle was merely a phenomenon of nature. Naturally, when he went outside, he could not see them.”

Colonel Berry told many more tales of the red men, but the story of Blue Elk remained the favorite. That glimpse of a far-away boyhood struck a sympathetic chord that tales of middle-aged wisdom and cunning failed to awaken. The colonel left Ellen’s Isle at noon the next day and the whole camp escorted him as far at St. Pierre in the canoes, like a squadron of battleships accompanying a liner. They parted from him with genuine regret and sang a mighty cheer in his honor as they pushed off on the return trip to Ellen’s Isle.

“Uncle Teddy,” said the Captain, as they sat around the fire at Ellen’s Isle that night, talking over the events of the previous day, “I am going to do the three-day fast like the Indian boys did.”

“Ho-ho-ho!” shouted Slim. “You couldn’t go a day without something to eat.”

“Don’t judge others by yourself,” retorted the Captain. “You couldn’t, I know well enough. But I believe the Indians were right in saying that the mind should conquer the body. I like that idea of going off by yourself and watching for some sign from nature. Being away from people and not hearing them talk gives you a great chance to think out the things that are puzzling you. I am going 131 over on the mainland, in the woods, and keep the fast three days.”

Of course, Aunt Clara didn’t want him to do it. She immediately had visions of him starved to death. But there was a wonderful gleam in Uncle Teddy’s eyes when he looked at his nephew. He said very little about the proposed fast, either to encourage or discourage him; simply gave his consent.

Hinpoha regarded the Captain with wondering admiration. She also burned with the desire to do something hard, to prove that girls as well as boys can practise self-control. “Oh, Captain,” she said, “if you keep the fast I’ll keep the silence! I’ll not speak a word for three days.”

There was a ripple of exclamations at this, mixed with laughter, for Hinpoha’s fondness for conversation was well known. “Laugh all you want to,” she said, “but I’ll prove to you that I can do it.”

The Captain chose the spot for his retirement and on the first day after he was released from Chiefhood he paddled across to the mainland taking his blankets and water, but no food. Hinpoha stood on the bank as he departed, with a middy tie bound over her mouth. She had feared her ability to keep silence without it as a constant reminder.

When the Captain reached the place where he planned to spread his blankets he found an Indian bed of balsam branches fully two feet high. Who 132 could have made it? he wondered, and then he remembered that Hinpoha had gone off paddling by herself the afternoon before. She knew the place he had picked out. He threw himself down on the fragrant couch and began his long struggle for the victory of the spirit over the body. Every night at sunset Uncle Teddy went over to see if he was all right and bring him fresh water from the little sweet spring on Ellen’s Isle. The third day the Captain lay with his eyes closed most of the time and dozed, the sounds of the wood and the lake coming to him as from afar off. Sometimes he slept and once he dreamed he saw an Indian girl come across the lake in a canoe, walk up to where he lay and stand looking at him steadily for a long time. He half opened his eyes and it still seemed to him as if there were someone there, but the face and the figure were Hinpoha’s. He opened his eyes wider and looked again, but she had vanished, and he sank back to sleep.

Over at Ellen’s Isle Hinpoha was going through the most strenuous three days in her whole experience. If anyone thinks it is easy to refrain from talking when one has talked all her life, let her try it, and her respect for Hinpoha will be greatly increased. The others tried by every means at their command to make her talk, popping questions at her suddenly to take her off her guard, making statements in her presence which she knew were incorrect 133 and which she burned to correct, and in every way making the fulfillment of her vow a difficult task. She could not go off by herself and thus remove the temptation, for she had vowed to go about her daily tasks as usual. By the end of the third day she was nearly ready to burst, but through it all she managed to keep an unruffled temper and a pleasant expression–the outward signs of a soul at peace. There will be many readers who will maintain that Hinpoha won the greater victory, although the Captain’s exploit won him more glory among his friends. To go off and fast has the halo of romance about it; to cease from talking for three days sounds easy, and in the case of a woman is apt to provoke smiles and hints that she must have talked in her sleep to make up for it.

When Uncle Teddy went over on the third sunset he brought the Captain home with him in the canoe. He looked just as he did when he went; not a bit thinner. When they asked him how he could stand it he replied that he hadn’t felt hungry after the first day at all. A great feast had been prepared in his honor, and Hinpoha, released from her vow, shared the glory with him.

“Well, was anything revealed to you during your fast?” asked Aunt Clara. “Do you know how to make your fortune now?”

The Captain only smiled at all remarks like that and in reply to demands as to what had been revealed 134 simply replied, “Oh, several things.” And his glance rested on Hinpoha for a fraction of a second.

“What did you dream about?” asked Hinpoha.

“Water,” said the Captain. “That isn’t surprising, though. There was water all around me in the lake and water in the jug beside me. And it was the only thing I was putting into my stomach, and dreams usually are the result of what you eat.”

“I would have dreamed about turkey dinners and slumgullion and fudge,” said Slim, spearing his fourth potato.

“You probably would,” said the Captain, without a tinge of sarcasm. And his eyes rested on Hinpoha again for a fraction of a second.