It was evening—of the second day of their trip and the scouts were seated about their camp fire, enjoying the leisure after the day’s activities. The flame lighted up the immediate circle, and the tents just beyond; but by way of contrast, it seemed to make the blackness of the woods and the water still deeper.

“Anybody want to go for a walk?” asked Miss Phillips, teasingly.

“We want to stay just where we are!” replied Marjorie, who was comfortably leaning against Lily’s back for support.

“Remember that dark forest in Barrie’s play—‘Dear Brutus’—where everybody went on a summer’s night and got things they all wished for!” remarked Lily.

None of the others had seen the play, and they asked her several questions about the story.

“It would take an Edith Evans to tell that story well,” sighed Lily; “it certainly was a pretty one.”

“But wouldn’t it be strange,” mused Marjorie, “if we could go into the woods over there and get our dearest wish. I wonder what mine would be.”

“To win the silver cup at the races, I guess,” put in Ruth. “I’m sure that’s my greatest desire at present.” Then, becoming very practical, she added, “Now please tell us all about it, Captain Phillips.”

“Well, I haven’t worked out the exact program,” replied Miss Phillips; “but I can tell you most of the things it will include.”

“First of all there will be a race——”

“With the same two girls together, just as we are now?” asked Alice Endicott.

“No—one girl to a canoe, for this event. You can’t very well sit down when you want to paddle fast—you kneel somewhere in the middle of the canoe. So, if we can’t hire canoes there, we will have two races, and then let the winner of each compete.”

“That really would be the fairest thing to do, anyway,” said Frances. “Because we’ll be more used to these canoes than any others.”

“Then there will be another event when there are two girls in each canoe, and perhaps a relay race. And finally, there will be a Capsized-canoe Competition. Someone will take the canoe to the middle of the lake and upset it. As soon as the contestant sees this take place, she is to kick off her shoes and dive into the lake, right the canoe, bale the water out, and bring it safely—with its first occupant in it—to shore. This is undoubtedly the most difficult feat of all.”

“But how will you decide who has won the cup?” asked Ruth, when Miss Phillips had finished her explanation.

“Mr. Remington and I are going to decide on how to award the different points, and then ask three strangers—people of Silvertown, I mean—to judge the contest.”

“Mr. Remington!” repeated Marjorie. “Will he be there?”

Miss Phillips blushed. “There, now, I have said too much already. Suppose we say nothing more about it. It’s time to go to bed, anyway.”

The scouts did as the captain commanded, pausing only to put out the fire. They reserved further discussion of the subject of the matter until they were by themselves.

Early the next morning they were in their canoes again, ready to start off. This time Miss Phillips kept her map in view so that there could be no chance of a mistake; and she designated Frances Wright and Ethel Todd—the two oldest girls in the troop—to take the lead.

For the next few days they progressed steadily onward. Always on the water by nine o’clock, and pausing only an hour for lunch, they continued until four; then with the aid of the map, Miss Phillips watched for the best camping place. All had gone well thus far; and by Saturday morning they were practically on schedule time.

“Have you ever been over this stream before, Captain?” asked Marjorie, as the canoes set off from the shore together.

“No, never,” replied Miss Phillips.

“Well, then how did you know all about making the map, and the best sites for our camps, and——?”

The captain smiled. “Mr. Remington, the scoutmaster, took it once, and recommended it to me. It was he who made the maps for us.”

“It certainly is lovely,” observed Marjorie. “I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful trip.”

“And don’t forget what awaits at the other end,” put in Ruth, with a tone of joyous anticipation.

“Except for the water meet!” sighed Doris. “Do you know, Captain Phillips, the idea of our racing and doing all those stunts sort of scares me—before all those strange people, I mean. Do we all have to take part?”

“Oh, I wish you all would, though of course I wouldn’t absolutely insist,” replied Miss Phillips. “But really, nobody in Pansy troop need be afraid. Already I consider you really expert canoeists!”

“Thanks, Captain!” exclaimed Ethel Todd, well pleased at the compliment.

“But of course nobody stands a chance with Marj!” said Ruth, rather sulkily. “Because she has had so much experience.” “Experience isn’t everything,” said Miss Phillips. “It’s deftness—a certain knack, which I can’t explain.”

The canoes were forced to go in single file now, for the stream had become very narrow. Miss Phillips and Frieda took the lead, the former watching cautiously for rapids; for it was somewhere near here, she thought, that a portage would be necessary. Ruth and Lily in the Water-Witch were the last in the trail.

“I honestly don’t think it’s fair about Marj!” repeated the former, in discontent.

“Why, Ruth, of course it is! Marj isn’t any professional, like you make her out to be! What don’t you consider fair about it?”

Ruth paddled more slowly, in order to allow those in the canoe ahead to get out of hearing distance.

“Just this. I think the whole idea of a canoe meet is not Miss Phillips’s, but Marj’s. Why should the captain have chosen the thing Marjorie Wilkinson is most proficient in? You can’t tell me! It’s because Marj paws around her, and makes her do just as she likes!”

“Ruth Henry!” cried Lily, furious at the slur against her best friend. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am, Lil. You’re blinded by her; Marj can do anything with you that she likes, and you think she’s wonderful. But other people don’t think so! She’s not half good enough for you, I tell you.” Ruth lowered her voice and spoke slowly in the hope that her words of flattery might make a deep impression upon the other. “You’re the most popular girl in our class, Lily Andrews, and everybody knows it. But if you don’t pay any attention to anybody except Marj, you’ll lose all your friends!”

Lily was simply dumbfounded at the words of her companion. It was true that she always put Marjorie first, assuming that her room-mate was more popular than herself. And yet, as Ruth had reminded her, it was she who had been chosen president of the class, and not Marjorie.

“Now I think it’s all very well to have tests like this Sailor’s test, as a regular part of scouting,” continued Ruth; “but when it comes to a big meet, which all Silvertown will witness, I don’t think it’s quite fair to select canoeing. Why shouldn’t Miss Phillips have chosen tennis? We’ve never had a tennis tournament.”

“But I thought it was our benefactor who suggested canoeing—not Miss Phillips.”

“Well, I don’t know, but I wish you’d help me this once. You know Miss Phillips hates me—” Ruth laughed carelessly, as if the fact did not cause her any unhappiness—“but she likes you, Lil. So you suggest a tennis match instead. Won’t you please, Lil?”

“Well, tennis would suit me just as well—though I’m not much good at either sport. Still, I do see what you mean. Yes—if I have a chance—maybe—I’ll mention the matter to Miss Phillips!”

“Oh, Lil, you’re an angel!” cried Ruth, in ecstasy.

All this time both girls had been so engrossed in the conversation that they had forgotten to paddle. Ruth, however, had continued to guide the canoe until she won Lily’s consent to attack Miss Phillips on the subject; then she gave a little jump, and dropped her paddle in the water. She had not noticed that the stream had become swifter, and that there were sharp rocks ahead; with her mind still upon the recent conversation, she leaned far over the side of the canoe in order to secure the floating paddle. The canoe, however, driven by the current, swung around and hit against a protruding rock. An instant later, the girls were thrown under the water. The canoe had capsized.

“Lil, oh! Lil! Where are you?” called Ruth, as soon as her head came to the surface.

“Here!” sputtered Lily, her nose and mouth filled with water by the violent ducking. Then a series of violent chokes on her part prevented all hope of replying.

“Oh, where can the others be?” cried Ruth, grasping at the canoe in despair, and looking wildly about for help. But she saw no signs of the other girls; the Water-Witch had evidently been progressing more slowly than they had either of them realized. With a desperate effort, they finally managed to turn the canoe about, and pushing it before them, they swam for the shore, which was close by. The water-proof bags containing rain-coats, blankets, and supplies were scattered in all directions, headed down stream.

“Lil, we’ve got to get our stuff—or it will sink so that we can’t find it!”

“Oh! Oh! What shall we do!” wailed Lily, now able to speak. “Marj! Marj!” she screamed helplessly.

In a second two or three scouts appeared about fifty yards down stream, on the bank. They had already landed their canoes when they heard the cry of distress. But in an incredibly short time Marjorie had pushed hers in to the water again, and was paddling madly against the current towards the scene of the accident. Seeing, however, when she reached them, that Lily was perfectly safe, and with Ruth, capable of managing the capsized canoe, she turned about and rescued the bags of luggage.

By this time the rest of the party had run along the shore, reaching the scene just as Lily, with drenched clothing and streaming hair, climbed out of the water. Meanwhile Marjorie continued to fish for the lost articles.

“We’re safe now. Pull her up, Lil!” called Ruth. “Hello, everybody! Weren’t we crazy, though?”

“It’s a swift part of the stream, and there are lots of sharp rocks,” explained Miss Phillips, after the scouts had pulled the canoe upon the bank and dumped out the water. “It is near here where we make our portage.”

“Oh, no wonder! Well, Marj—” Ruth watched the other girl direct her canoe to the shore—“did you find everything?”

“I saw something or other sink to a watery grave,” replied Marjorie; “and maybe I missed one or two little things. But I guess I got most everything.”

“We’ll have to make a grand drying-day,” remarked Miss Phillips. “But there doesn’t seem to be any good place to pitch our tents.”

She looked around anxiously, but the banks on either side of the stream were sharply and thickly covered with trees. Suddenly she realized how still everything was; not a leaf was stirring, not a bird was singing. The girls, too, were absolutely quiet, as if awed by some approaching calamity. She glanced nervously at the sky; the sun was still shining brightly, but a glistening white cloud was rapidly rising out of the east, and increasing in size as it advanced higher into the heavens. A moment later, the sun was temporarily obscured. A distant rumble was heard. There was no doubt about it now; a heavy thunderstorm was approaching.

“We’ll never get dry!” said Lily, dolefully. “Oh, Ruth, aren’t you getting sort of cold? And with nothing but wet sweaters to put on——” “Here’s mine!” offered Alice, handing her sweater to Lily. “And I’ll get Flo’s for you, Ruth.”

“Thanks!” murmured both girls, gratefully.

“Girls,” said Miss Phillips, “I have decided not to attempt to put up tents now. Do you see that barn over there? I think we had better take out our bags and blankets, and turn our canoes upside down and make for shelter. Whoever owns it surely wouldn’t put us out in the storm.”

“Suits me to the ground!” said Lily.

When Marjorie unbarred the bolt of the heavy wooden door, the first big drops of rain were falling from the black cloud overhead. The rusty hinges creaked, and the door swung open, revealing an empty interior of huge proportions. The divisions of the stalls were still standing, and the floor of the loft was covered with straw. Although the place was deserted, everything was neat and clean.

“I’m just as glad we don’t have to share our quarters with horses,” said Alice.

“Or cows!” added Ruth.

“Let’s hope nobody puts us out,” said Miss Phillips. “As soon as the storm is over, I’ll go and see if the house to which this belongs is occupied, for it would seem to me to be wiser to stay here all night than to pitch tents on wet ground. And especially on Lily’s and Ruth’s account.”

“Oh, don’t mind us,” said Ruth. “We’ll be all right.” “Well, suppose you select that stall over there as your boudoir, and put on dry clothing. If your own bloomers and middies are wet, borrow somebody else’s. And a good rub with a Turkish towel wouldn’t hurt.”

The rest of the scouts climbed to the loft, and seated themselves on some straw near a window, so that they might watch the storm. Great claps of thunder followed sharp flashes of lightning, but the girls did not seem the least afraid. Indeed, several of them were sorry when the storm gave indication of subsiding.

“Will it be safe to make a fire outside the barn to cook something?” asked Frieda. “There’s hardly any thing on hand that’s good cold.”

“Yes,” replied the captain; “if we notice which side the wind is blowing from, and make it so the sparks blow away from the barn, and not towards it.”

“Oh, here are some dry twigs and a few logs!” said Marjorie, who had descended the ladder again, and was making a tour of exploration. “Just the thing for a fire.”

“Good!” cried Frieda. “Now I won’t have to demonstrate my ability to make a fire from wet wood!”

The rain had entirely ceased now, and the sun was shining again. Marjorie and Alice offered to make the fire while Frieda prepared the supper. Ruth and Lily spent their time rigging up a place to hang their wet clothing, and Florence and Miss Phillips went in search of water.

The fire had been blazing brightly for several minutes when a gruff, loud voice suddenly startled the girls from their pleasant conversation.

“Who’s trying to burn my barn down?”

The girls crowded together fearfully, and Frances stood ready to face the angry owner; for, to their dismay, Miss Phillips was still out of sight.

“Please sir,” Frances began, as soon as an old man appeared around the side of the barn, “we are being very careful. You see we made our fire away from the wind——”

“Oh, you did, eh? Well, suppose you put it right out again!”

Something in the old man’s manner, gruff though it was, reminded Doris of her father, and hardly realizing what she was doing she put her hand on his sleeves, and looked beseechingly into his eyes.

“Please don’t put us out!” she pleaded. “We’re Girl Scouts, and we give you our word of honor——”

At her words and her tone, the old man’s anger subsided; she seemed so like a child, asking him for shelter and protection. No one could resist Doris Sands for any length of time.

“But my dear child—” he began. A voice behind him interrupted his sentence. The captain had returned to the scene of action.

“Please accept my apologies,” she said; and before he could reply, she told him the whole story.

“Why, I understand perfectly!” he said. “But can’t you come up to the house instead, and I guess my wife can give you some supper?”

“Thanks,” said Miss Phillips; “we shall be glad to accept your invitation. But so long as the girls have started supper, we may as well eat it.”

“Then save up for dessert! I saw my wife making a cake this morning.”

“Hooray!” exclaimed Alice. “We haven’t had any home-made cake for an age!”

“And I’ll see that the fire is entirely put out,” concluded Miss Phillips, as the man turned to go.

“Doris, you certainly got around him nicely,” remarked Ruth as they took their plates of beans into the barn to eat.

“Oh, country people are always nice,” said Doris; “if you only understand them right.”

“Do you think this is a big farm, Miss Phillips?” questioned Marjorie.

“I don’t think it’s a farm at all,” replied the captain. “I think these old people live here by themselves, and probably raise a little garden for their own use. But if it were really a farm, this barn wouldn’t be empty like this.”

“That’s true,” agreed the girl. The old people proved to be living just such a life as Miss Phillips had surmised. Kindly, hospitable, and simple-hearted, they made their guests quite at home and the girls enjoyed their evening, and the day that followed. For it was Sunday, and the old couple insisted that the girls accompany them to the country church and remain with them for dinner.

It was nearly three o’clock when the scouts made their adieux, and returned to seek their canoes, for Miss Phillips had decided that they would make the portage before setting up camp for the night.

“And we couldn’t be more rested, or in better condition to carry heavy loads,” said Miss Phillips, as they came upon the canoes lying just as they had left them, bright and shining after their washing in the rain.

“And now for the heavy work!” said Lily, tucking her luggage into the Water-Witch.

“Thank goodness for that chicken dinner!” added Ethel.

“So say we all!” echoed Marjorie.