ing
blueberries and my cup runneth over. The sun has turned the
beach into a Sahara, but here in the woods it is dim and cool and
pleasant. I am leaning against a big tree with my feet stretched
out in front of me. There is a spider weaving a web from one
foot to the other. I hate to break down his handiwork, or
rather, his footiwork, but I can't stay here forever, much as I
would like to. He ought to have been more careful about getting
a clear title to his property before building. This will teach
him a lesson, I think.

"Just now a tiny red squirrel ran down a tree, paused beside me,
gave an impertinent whisk of his tail and disappeared. 'Lazy
girl,' he seemed to say, 'idling away this beautiful summer
weather when you ought to be storing nuts for the winter. You'll
repent when the snow begins to fly. Idle in summer, hungry in
winter.' With a disapproving cough he disappeared.

"There is a blueberry bush nearby hanging full of large luscious
berries. I never saw blueberries in their native wilds before. I
had a sort of hazy notion that blueberries grew in quart boxes in
market stalls."

"That reminds me," said Hinpoha suddenly, "it must be getting
near time for our promised trip to Blueberry Island." She
painted a bush with berries nearly as big as marbles and read on
eagerly:

"I have surprised an acorn in a gross neglect of duty. He is
lying on the ground where he fell last fall and hasn't sprouted
in the least. I thought all acorns aspired to be oak trees.
Think of being a nut half an inch long, and in that half inch to
have the power of becoming the King of the Forest, and then let
that power lie unused! If I were an acorn I would feel eternally
disgraced if I hadn't sprouted."

Hinpoha duly portrayed the delinquent acorn. "I'll tell you what
we'll do when we grow up," she said, leaning back and surveying
her work critically, "you write books and I'll illustrate them!"

All this time Nyoda and Sahwah had been working on a canoe a
little farther up the beach. Sahwah had crossed the lake in the
dark the night before and had grounded on a sharp rock that
jutted up just underneath the surface, ripping a hole in the
bottom of the canoe nearly a foot long. Now she and Nyoda were
repairing the damage. "Don't anybody take this canoe out for a
couple of days," said Nyoda to the girls, "the pine pitch we put
on isn't hard yet."

Hinpoha showed Nyoda the leaves from Migwan's journal which she