a la la la la,
Oh, we are Winnebagos and our color is the Red,
Over the hills and down the dales we go wherever we're led!"

"I suppose you'll be a great poet when you grow up," said
Hinpoha, stooping to pick a cluster of ripe strawberries.

Migwan sighed. "No, I'll never be a great poet," she answered,
"but I may be able to write stories in time, if I learn enough
about composition."

"What college are you going to?" asked Hinpoha.

"I'm not going at all," said Migwan seriously. "You know, since
father died we have had to live very carefully, and high school
is all mother can do for me. I have to go to work as soon as I
graduate."

"It's too bad," sympathized Hinpoha. "You ought to go to college
more than any of us. Here am I, with no more brains than a
rabbit, going to Smith. It isn't fair. Can't you work your way
through and go anyhow?"

Migwan shook her head. "You see, we will need the money I earn
to send Betty and Tom to high school."

Thus talking earnestly they followed the blazes until they came
to a place where the path divided around a very dense piece of
woods. "You take one path, and I'll take the other," said
Migwan, "and we'll see who comes out first." They separated and
Migwan plunged into the darker of the two paths. It was hard
breaking through. Small scrub pines closed over the path, their
branches intertwined, so that more than once she had to use her
hatchet. Roots and vines tangled her feet and made her stumble.
Then she wedged her foot in between two stumps and could not get
it out. She pulled and twisted and finally grasped hold of the
stem of a small tree and braced herself firmly while she
endeavored to free herself. With a sudden jerk her foot came
free, and at the same instant the tree came up by the roots, the
ground caved in beneath it and Migwan began to fall. She now
discovered what she had not noticed before, that the path was on
the edge of a very deep ravine which was hidden by the thick
bushes. Straight down she rolled for about fifty feet, vainly
trying to stop herself by grasping the small bushes. Deep down
in the gully she came to a stop not two feet away from a small
stream.

"I'm not dead, anyhow," was her first thought as she scrambled to
her feet. A red-hot stab of agony went through her left knee and
she sank down again, white and faint. "Dislocated," she said to
herself after inspecting the injured member. "Let's see if I can
put it back.