ice
and looked around. Nyoda stopped in confusion. The youth in the
boat was not Ed Roberts. It was Sherry, the Senior Counsellor.
"You came down at last?" he said joyfully.

When Nyoda returned to the tents the girls eagerly demanded to
know "what he had said." But she waved all their questions and
sent them back to bed. Only to Gladys's, "Will he stop serenading
us now?" she returned a short, non-committal "Yes."

CHAPTER XI.

ON SHADOW RIVER.

The long awaited canoe trip, which had been put off "until Gladys
learned to swim," had at last become a reality, and bright and
early one morning the Winnebagos started off on a fifteen-mile
paddle up the Shadow River. Sahwah led the procession in the
_Keewaydin_, uttering shouts which she fondly believed to be in
imitation of an Indian warrior. Her new hunting knife hung at
one side of her belt, her own hatchet on the other, while the
rest of the space was decorated with her Wohelo knife and a
string of enormous safety pins with which to pin her blankets
together. In the bottom of the canoe reposed her rifle. Nyoda
had to turn her head away to hide a smile when she saw the
outfit. Sahwah looked like a floating cutlery store. Just why
she should elect to impersonate a brave instead of an Indian
maiden was not clear to Nyoda, but this was only another
illustration of her whimsical temperament. Part of the time the
stay-at-home duties appealed to her; the care of the hearthfire,
the cooking and cleaning and hand-craft; and then again her
imagination was kindled by tales of scouts and warriors and she
longed for the wild life of the hunter.

Migwan, on the other hand, was the picture of shy, dreamy
girlhood, as she sat in the bottom of the canoe and let herself
be paddled along by two other girls so she might have her hands
free for writing down her impressions of the trip. Describing it
in a letter to her mother, she wrote:

"I am packed in like a sardine between the ponchos and supplies.
Can you imagine me sitting in an inch of water, with one foot
straight up in the air, the other doubled under somebody's
poncho, and scarcely daring to breathe for fear of disturbing the
balance, placidly doing beadwork? It is quite an accomplishment
to thread a needle in a pitching canoe, but every one has
mastered the art."

The trip up the Shadow River was ideally beautiful. The scenery
was still wild and natural, and the foliage very dense. Many of
the trees a