and Modern History.
You have had all three of those subjects, have you not?"

"Yes," said Migwan, eagerly.

"The examination is to take place the last week in April," continued
Professor Green. "'A word to the wise is sufficient.' You are one of the
best students of history in the class."

Migwan went away after thanking him for telling her about it, feeling as
if she were treading on air. There was no doubt in her mind about her
ability to learn history, as there was about geometry. She had an
amazing memory for dates and events and in her imaginative mind the
happenings of centuries ago took form and color and stood out as vividly
as if she saw them passing by in review. Her heart beat violently when
she thought that she had as good a chance, if not better than any one
else in the class, of winning that $100 prize. This would pay her
tuition in the local university for the first year. She resolved to
throw her fruitless writing to the winds and put all her strength into
her history. The world stretched out before her a blooming, sunny
meadow, instead of a stagnant fen, and exultantly she sang to herself
one of the pageant songs of the Camp Fire Girls:

"Darkness behind us,
Peace around us,
Joy before us,
White Flame forever!"

That morning the announcement of the prize examination was made to the
whole class, and Abraham Goldstein also resolved that he would win that
$100.

The snow lasted over another day and the next night Sahwah and Dick
Albright and a half dozen other girls and boys went coasting. It was
bright moonlight and the air was clear and crisp, just cold enough to
keep the snow hard and not cold enough to chill them as they sat on the
bob. The place where they went coasting was down the long lake drive in
the park, an unbroken stretch of over half a mile. Halfway down the
slope the land rose up in a "thank--you--marm," and when the bob struck
this it shot into the air and came down again in the path with a
thrilling leap which never failed to make the girls shriek. Migwan was
there in the crowd, and Gladys, and one or two more of the Winnebagos.
Dick Albright was in his element as he steered the bob down the long
white lane, for Sahwah sat right behind him, shouting merry nonsense
into his ear. "Now let me steer," she commanded, when they had gone down
a couple of times.

"Don't you do it, Dick," said one of the other boys, "she'll never steer
us around the bend." Dick hesitated. There