“Is there enough blue to make a Dutchman a pair of breeches?” asked Gladys, anxiously scanning the heavens. “If there is, it will clear up before noon.”

“Well, there’s enough to patch a pair, anyway,” said Katherine, pointing to a minute scrap of blue showing through a jagged rent in a gray cloud.

“A patched pair is just as good as a new one,” said Gladys with easy philosophy. “It’s all right for us to go for a hike today, isn’t it, Uncle Teddy?”

“Most any day is good for a hike, if you really want to go,” answered Uncle Teddy cheerfully. “Don’t I hear you girls singing:

“‘We always think the weather’s fine in sunshine or in snow?’”

“Oh, goody! I’m glad you think so,” said Gladys.

“Mother always wants us to stay at home if it looks the least bit like rain and when we do it usually clears up after it’s too late to start. We’ve all set our hearts on cutting those balsam branches today.”

Uncle Teddy sniffed the air again and remarked that there was little rain in it, so with light hearts the expedition started out. Uncle Teddy took them across to the mainland. On this occasion there was 226 an extra passenger in the launch. This was Sandhelo, with his feet carefully tied to prevent his exercising them unduly. He was to accompany the expedition and carry the balsam branches back to the shore. The lake was quite rough and more than once the water splashed inside the boat.

“Poor Sandhelo,” said Hinpoha sympathetically. “Do you suppose he’ll get seasick? He looks so pale.”

“How does a donkey look when he’s pale?” jeered Sahwah. “If you mean that white stuff on his nose, he stuck it into a pan of flour this morning. Anyway, I never heard of a donkey getting seasick.”

“That doesn’t prove that they can’t,” retorted Hinpoha.

But Sandhelo seemed none the worse for his journey when they set him ashore and trotted briskly along with the expedition. The balsam firs were deep in the woods and it took some time to find them. The wind seemed much stronger over here than it had been on Ellen’s Isle–or else it had stiffened after they left. It roared through the treetops in a perfectly fascinating way and every little while they would stop and listen to it, laughing as the leafy skirt of some staid old birch matron went flying over her head.

“It seems like a million hungry lions roaring,” said Hinpoha.

227“Or the bad spirits of the air practising their football yells,” said Sahwah.

“There goes my hat! Catch it, somebody!” cried Katherine.

The hat did some amazing loop-the-looping and settled on a high branch, whence it was retrieved by the Monkey with some little difficulty.

Gathering the balsam boughs was not such an idyllic process as they had expected. In the first place, they were blowing around at such a rate that it was hard to catch hold of them, and then when one was grasped firmly the others lashed out so furiously that they were driven back again and again. Furthermore, those which they did succeed in getting off were picked up by the gale and hurled broad-cast.

“It’s too windy to do anything today,” said Hinpoha crossly, retiring to the shelter of a wide trunk and holding her hands to her smarting face. Several stinging blows from a branch set with needles had dampened her enthusiasm for balsam pillows.

Some of the others stuck it out until they had as much as they wanted, and after an hour or more of strenuous labor Sandhelo was finally laden with his fragrant burden and the expedition started back.

Then they began to have their first real experience with wind. Going into the woods it had been been at their backs and they thought it great fun to be shoved along and to lean back against it like a 228 supporting hand, but going against it was an entirely different matter. It was all they could do to stand on their feet and at times they simply could not move an inch forward. The roaring in the treetops seemed full of menace, and branches began to fall around them. Not far away a whole tree went down with a sounding crash.

“We’re all going to be killed!” cried Gladys hysterically, as they huddled together at the sound of the falling tree. A wild blast that rang like the scream of an enraged beast came like an answer to her words, and a sapling maple snapped off like a toothpick. Sandhelo snorted with fear and began to kick out.

“We must get out of these woods as fast as we can,” said the Captain, to whom the others had all turned for advice.

“You don’t see any of us lingering to admire the scenery, do you?” asked Katherine drily.

Terrified almost out of their senses and expecting every minute to have a tree fall on them, they made their way toward the shore and came out spent and exhausted and too breathless to talk. But glad as they were to get out of the woods in safety, they were filled with dismay when they looked at the lake. To their excited eyes the waves, black as the sky above them, seemed mountain high.

“They’ll never come for us in the launch in that,” 229 said Katherine after a few moments’ silent gazing, voicing the fears of the others.

“We should never have started out on a day like this,” said Hinpoha. “Why did you insist so on our coming, Gladys?”

“Well,” Gladys defended herself, “Katherine said there was enough blue to patch the Dutchman’s breeches and—”

“But it was you who said that was enough to start out on,” retorted Katherine. “And you wanted the balsam boughs the worst, so it’s your fault.”

“Don’t let’s quarrel about who’s fault it was,” said the Captain. “None of us were obliged to come; we came because we wanted to. It’s everybody’s fault, and what is everybody’s is nobody’s. We’re here now and we’ll have to make the best of it.”

“Maybe it will calm down before very long,” said Gladys hopefully.

“Not much chance,” said the Captain, “with the wind rising every minute.”

There seemed nothing else to do but wait, so they crouched behind rocks to find shelter from the gale and tried to be patient. Every little while a dash of spray would find someone out and then there would be a shriek and a scramble for another rock higher up on the shore. Thus the afternoon wore away. It had been practically twilight since noon.

“What are you doing, Captain, admiring the 230 view?” asked Slim, when the Captain had been looking out over the tossing lake for fully five minutes.

“Quite some view,” said the Captain, who was deeply impressed by the ferocity of wind and wave, “but I was doing something besides admiring it. I was thinking that it won’t do us much good to sit here any longer. The lake is getting rougher all the time and there is no hope of Uncle Teddy’s being able to come for us tonight. I think the best thing to do would be to try to walk to St. Pierre, where we can find shelter.”

“Would we be able to make it?” asked Hinpoha doubtfully, measuring the distance that lay between them and the little cluster of toy houses that shone ghostly white against the black sky. “It must be miles.”

“Not quite three,” replied the Captain. “We can make it. The wind will be coming from the side, so we won’t be walking squarely against it.”

They formed a line, each boy taking a girl by the arm, and struggled along the shore, keeping out of the woods as much as possible, and made slow but steady progress toward St. Pierre. It was during one of their frequent stops for breath that Sahwah, who had turned her head to look out over the wild water, suddenly screamed, “Look!”

“It’s the Huronic!” gasped Hinpoha, her eyes following Sahwah’s pointing finger.

Jammed up on a reef and completely at the mercy 231 of the waves that battered against her side lay the great steamer that only a week before had swept so proudly through the channel. The beautiful white bird had its wings broken now, and drooping helplessly lay exposed to the full fury of the storm.

Hinpoha shrieked and covered her face with her hands. Horrified and fascinated, the others watched the waves dashing high over the tilting decks.

“Whe-e-e-w-w-w!” whistled the Captain.

“Can’t we do something,” said Sahwah, “run and tell somebody? Oh, don’t stand here and see that boat go to pieces!”

“What can we do?” asked Hinpoha.

Before anybody could answer her question a brilliant light suddenly flared up a short distance ahead of them on the shore. “What’s that?” asked Hinpoha in amazement.

“Beach patrol,” explained the Captain. “That’s the signal that he has sighted the ship. Now he’ll run back to the life saving station that’s about a mile beyond here opposite the mouth of the channel and tell them where the wreck is and they’ll come and take the people off the ship. See him going there, along the shore?”

In the gray darkness which followed the flash of light they could just barely make out the figure of a man running.

“I don’t see how he ever got that torch lit in this wind,” said Hinpoha.

232“That wasn’t an ordinary torch,” explained the Captain, eager to display his knowledge of life-saving methods. “That’s what they call a Coston signal. It’s a patent torch that flares up when you strike the cap against something hard. The life-saving crew back in the station see it and get the apparatus ready and the people on the ship see it and know they have been sighted and help is coming.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Hinpoha in relieved tones. “Now the poor people on the boat won’t be so frightened if they know they are going to be saved. It must be fine to be a life saver!”

“Maybe I’ll be one when I grow up,” said the Captain.

“Oh, how grand!” said Hinpoha admiringly. “We’ll be so proud—” Then came a fiercer gust of wind and drowned the remainder of her sentence in its shriek, and they plodded on in silence, covering their faces to shield them from the whirling sand. Only a little way farther they came upon the beach patrol sitting on the ground and rubbing his knee.

“What’s the matter?” they asked, pressing around.

“Hullo!” he exclaimed in astonishment, “what are you kids doing out on a night like this?”

“We’re taking a walk,” replied Sahwah and then giggled nervously when she thought how funny that 233 must sound. “What’s the matter?” she repeated.

“Tripped over a stone,” replied the beach patrol, “and kinked my leg.” He stifled a groan as he spoke.

“Are you badly hurt?” asked Hinpoha anxiously.

The man rose to his feet and limped resolutely on his way toward the station, but his progress was very slow. “Of all times to go lame!” he exclaimed in bitter vexation. “There’s the Huronic out there on the reef with two hundred passengers on board and there’s not a minute to lose!”

“We’ll take the word to the station!” said the Captain promptly. “We can get there lots faster than you can.”

“All right,” said the beach patrol briefly. He wasted no words in this emergency when seconds were things of consequence, but made prompt use of the assistance which had apparently been sent from heaven in the nick of time. “Tell them she’s struck on the reef off Sister Point,” he directed.

“‘On the reef off Sister Point,’” they all repeated, and started forward with as much speed as they could manage.

Then it seemed to them that the wind had shifted and was coming from the front. In spite of valiant efforts to keep on their feet they were blown against the rocks which strewed the shore, and bruised and battered mercilessly.

234“I can’t go any farther,” gasped Antha at last, sinking wearily down behind a huge stump.

“Neither can I,” said Migwan, who knew when she had reached the limit of her strength and realized that it would be folly to attempt to keep on to the station. Hinpoha had been panting in distress for some time, but had kept on gamely. But now she agreed with Migwan.

“All you girls get around behind that cliff,” shouted the Captain at the top of his voice so as to make them hear, “and stay there until you’re rested. We’ll go on to the station.”

Katherine and Sahwah stubbornly refused to be left; the other girls sought the shelter of the rock wall. Spurred on by the importance of their errand the nine struggled valiantly to make headway, but it was most discouraging work. At times it seemed as if they would be picked off their feet bodily and whirled into space.

“Every time I go forward one step I blow back two,” panted Sahwah as they drew up in the shelter of a bluff to take a moment’s breathing spell. “Aren’t we nearly there?”

“Only about a quarter of the distance,” said the Captain gloomily.

“I’ve an idea,” said Katherine suddenly.

“What is it?” asked Sahwah.

“We’re not getting to the station nearly as fast as we ought to,” said Katherine, “and what’s more, 235 there’s no hope of our going any faster on foot. I’ll ride Sandhelo in. He’s lots stronger than we are and can hold up against the wind where we can’t. It’s the only way we can get the word to the station in time. I didn’t think of riding him before, because the beach was so rocky I was afraid he would break his leg in the dark, but from here it seems to be smooth.”

However much the boys thought it was their duty to carry the message to the station rather than the girls’, they saw the worth of Katherine’s advice. They thought of the Huronic lying out on the reef, pounded by the waves, and gave in to her at once without discussion.

All this time Katherine had been leading Sandhelo because she could hang on to him and keep her balance when the wind threatened to sweep her off her feet.

“Get ready for business, now, old chap,” she said to him. “It’s time for your act.” And, climbing on his back, she bent low over his neck and urged him forward with a cluck and a poke.

But Sandhelo chose this crisis to indulge in a return of his artistic temperament. Not an inch would he budge. “What shall I do?” wailed Katherine, when all her clucking and prodding had been in vain.

“Try riding him backward the way you did that day in the circus,” screamed Sahwah.

Katherine whirled around on her stubborn mount 236 and unexpectedly gave his tail a smart pull. With a snort of indignant surprise Sandhelo threw out his legs and started forward. Katherine caught her balance from the shock of starting, clamped her knees into his sides and hung on grimly to the blanket that had been strapped around his middle to keep the balsam boughs from pricking him.

Never was there a more grotesque ride for life. Instead of the beautiful heroine of fiction galloping on a noble steed here was a lanky girl riding backwards on a temperamental trick mule, hanging on as best she could, holding her breath as he pounded along in the darkness, expecting every moment that he would go down under her and praying fervently that he would not take it into his head to stop. But Sandhelo, under the impression that he was running away from something, kept on going from sheer fright, and as his early life had been spent waltzing on a revolving platform, he was able to keep a footing where any other steed would have broken his legs.

He would not even stop when they came to the life-saving station, and Katherine had to roll off as best she could, landing in the sand on her face.

“Whoa, there!” shouted half a dozen voices, and the surfmen who stood anxiously waiting for the return of the patrol caught his bridle and brought him to a standstill. Katherine panted out her message, and then refusing the invitation of the keeper 237 to go inside the station, she followed the crew as they dragged the beach wagon to the point on the shore opposite the wreck.

From their various shelters along the way the rest of the Winnebagos came out and joined her, all eager to see the work of rescuing the stranded passengers.

Hinpoha exclaimed in dismay when the small cannon was brought out and aimed at the ship. “They’re going to shoot the passengers!” she cried, clutching the Captain by the arm.

“No, they aren’t,” the Captain assured her hastily. “They’re going to shoot the line out to the ship. That’s the way they rig up the breeches-buoy. Now you watch. I’m going to see if I can help. That fellow with the twisted knee is out of it.”

Without getting in the men’s way, the Captain watched his chance, and when it came time to man the whip that hauled the breeches-buoy out to the vessel he took a hand with the crew and pulled lustily. After that he worked right along with the men and they were glad of his help, for the loss of the one surfman was holding them back. The other boys also did what they could to help, and the bringing to shore of the passengers proceeded as rapidly as possible.

The memory of that night was ever after like a confused dream in the minds of the Winnebagos and Sandwiches; a nightmare of howling wind and dashing 238 waves and inky darkness out of which came ever increasing numbers of people to throng the shore.

The wrecking of a passenger vessel was a much more serious matter than the destruction of a freighter, where there would only be the crew to bring ashore. The Huronic carried two hundred passengers and as it was impossible for any boat to get alongside of her to take them off, they all had to be taken ashore in the breeches-buoy or the life car. Other lines were shot out after the first one and other rescue apparatus set up. From the position of her lights it could be seen that the Huronic was listing farther to the leeward all the time. The life savers worked untiringly and the throng of rescued grew apace.

Entirely forgetting their own fatigue from their long tramp against the wind, the Winnebagos and Sandwiches moved among the crowd, lending sweaters, coats and scarfs to shivering women, taking crying children in tow and finding their distracted parents, and doing a hundred and one little services that helped materially to bring a semblance of order out of the wild confusion.

Hinpoha had just restored a curly-haired three-year old to his hysterical mamma when a man came up to her and said, “Will you bring your flashlight over here, please? My wife has dropped her watch.”

Hinpoha obligingly turned aside with him and 239 approached a woman kneeling in the sand, searching. “This young lady will help you find it, Elizabeth,” said the man.

“That’s encouraging,” replied the woman in a voice which made Hinpoha give a great start and hastily flash the little circle of light on her face. The next moment she flung herself bodily on top of her with a great shriek.

“Nyoda! Where on earth did you come from? Nyoda! Nyoda!”

“Hinpoha!” cried the young woman in the sand, clinging to her in amazement, while the man who had addressed Hinpoha gave vent to a long whistle.

“Why, it’s the immortal redhead!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you in the dark at all.”

“It’s the first time anybody ever said they didn’t know me in the dark,” said Hinpoha, laughing. “I didn’t know you either without that famous mustache. Sahwah!” she called. “Gladys! Come here quick!”

The Winnebagos had often pictured to themselves what their reunion with Nyoda would be like when she made them the faithfully promised visit the following year, but none of them had ever dreamed it would come so soon or be like this. In the feeble light of their pocket flashes they crowded around her, behind a point of the cliff which kept some of the wind away, and all talked at once as they bubbled over with joy at the meeting, and 240 Sherry, against whom they had vowed eternal warfare for stealing their beloved guardian away, came in for his share of handshaking and rapturous greeting.

“Where were you going?” “What were you doing on the Huronic?” “Why didn’t you let us know you were so near?” “Did you intend to stop?” “How does it feel to be shipwrecked?” “Were you scared when they took you off the boat?” asked six voices at once.

Nyoda laughed and threw up her hands in a gesture of protest. “Have mercy!” she pleaded. “Send up your questions in single file.” Then she told how Sherry had been instructed to go to Chicago when they were up in Duluth and they had chosen to come down by water, and were having a most delightful trip on the Huronic when it was so rudely ended by the storm. Her tale was somewhat disconnected, for she was constantly being interrupted by outbursts of delight at seeing her again and anxious inquiries as to whether she was cold, all more or less accompanied by caresses.

During one of these pauses, when she was being nearly smothered in a mackinaw by the over-solicitous Hinpoha, a voice was heard nearby, saying, “First we see Jim’s signal light go off and we knowed there was a wreck somewhere. We was wondering why he didn’t come back to report when all of a sudden up comes a reg’lar giraffe of a girl 241 on board an imitation mule. She was sittin’ facin’ the stern an’ listin’ hard to starboard. She tries to make port in front of the station, but the mule he heads into the wind an’ she jumps overboard.”

The Winnebagos shouted with laughter at this description of Katherine’s arrival at the station with the great news. “Sh-h, maybe he’ll tell some more,” said Sahwah, trying to quiet the others down. But the loquacious surfman had moved out of earshot and they heard no more of his tale.

Another voice was speaking now, a crisp voice that held a note of impatience. “No conveyance available to take me to St. Pierre? How annoying! How far did you say it was? Two miles? In this wind—”

The voice broke off, but the speaker moved forward toward the little group behind the bluff. Just then a searchlight that had been set up on the beach fell upon him. It was Judge Dalrymple.

“Papa!” cried Antha, starting up.

The judge whirled around, startled. “Where did you come from?” he asked.

Antha dragged him over to the rest and then there were more exclamations of astonishment that the judge had also been a victim of the wreck.

The night wore away while all the adventures were being told, and the gray dawn saw the last of the rescued passengers finding their friends and relatives in the crowd, while the surfmen gathered up 242 their paraphernalia and piled it into the beach wagon. The wind was abating its force and a weary-eyed procession was setting out in the direction of St. Pierre.

The Winnebagos and Sandwiches were a procession all to themselves, led by the stately judge with a twin hanging on each arm. Behind him came Nyoda and the adoring Winnebagos like Diana surrounded by her maidens, while Katherine stalked in the rear of the parade leading the angel-faced Sandhelo, on whose back she had set a tired youngster.

“What a terrible, wicked wind that was,” said Gladys, looking from the wreck of the magnificent Huronic to the uprooted trees lying everywhere along the edge of the woods.

“But it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good,” said Hinpoha, as she embraced Nyoda for the hundred and nineteenth time.