She kept her eyes on Sahwah, watching her rather slow progress through the waves, and did not see a party of people who were coming up the path from the road until they were right beside her. Her attention was attracted by a cry from Migwan. She turned and saw a man and woman with a little boy about three years old.

"Why, that's _my_ little boy!" said Migwan. "The one I saw in the woods that morning."

"Then you are the young lady we are looking for," said the man, coming forward. "We have you to thank that we have our boy with us to-day. It was you who put us on the track of the men who had kidnapped him."

"He _was_ kidnapped, then," said Migwan.

"Yes," answered the boy's father, "he was taken from our camp by those two men whom you saw. Thanks to your picture of them we put the police on their trail and caught them in Portland. We are just coming home with him now and wanted to see you. This is Mrs. Bartlett, my wife, and our son Raymond, whom you have already seen."

"Come right up and sit down," said Nyoda cordially, "and tell us all about it. We have been curious to know whether the little boy was ever found or not."

They told how the little boy was missed from their camp that Thursday night, and of their frantic search along the sh.o.r.e, thinking he had fallen into the lake. Then some one found a toy sailboat of his in the woods and they came to the conclusion that he had either wandered off or been carried away. No trace of any abductor could be found, however, and it would have been hard work running the men down if it had not been for Migwan's picture of them with the boy and her report that they were headed for the Loon Lake boat. When found, little Raymond was dressed in girl's clothes and effectually disguised. Then Migwan told the story of her fall down the cliff and her night in the woods and her seeing the three on the path in the morning. It was just like a fairy tale.

"By the way," said Mr. Bartlett when she had finished, "did you know that I had offered a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars to any one giving information which would lead to Raymond's recovery?"

"No," said Migwan, "I didn't."

"Well," said Mr. Bartlett, "that's what I did, and I don't see that any one is ent.i.tled to it but yourself. You gave us the only definite clue we had to work on. It gives me great pleasure, madam, to pay my just debts," and he handed Migwan a check.

Migwan stared at the slip of paper in a dazed fashion. She could not comprehend the good fortune that had suddenly come to her.

Then she handed the check back to Mr. Bartlett. "I can't take your money," she said. "I really didn't do anything, you know."

"That's all right," said Mr. Bartlett, waving her back. "You did a whole lot more than you know, young lady. Just think of the worry and anxiety you have saved us! It's worth the money, every cent of it. I only wish I could offer a larger reward."

So Migwan, still protesting, was forced to accept the check, and the Bartletts rose to go. "Come over and see us sometime," said Mrs. Bartlett cordially, "and bring all the girls along. You might have a sleeping party on our lawn."

"That will be fine, and I accept the invitation in behalf of my girls," said Nyoda, as she accompanied them to the road where their car stood.

Up on the shack porch Migwan was the center of an excited group, and the check was pa.s.sed from hand to hand. Sahwah sighed enviously and wished with all her heart that she might be the heroine of the hour.

"What are you going to do with all that money?" asked one of the girls.

"It looks," said Migwan in an awed tone, hugging the precious check in her hands, "as if I were really going to college, after all!"

CHAPTER VII.

SAHWAH THE SUNFISH.

Migwan sat on a rock on the beach making notes in her journal, now and then lifting her eyes to the lake to watch the shadows gliding across the water, as the clouds floated by overhead.

Sometimes the sunlight was darkened for a few minutes and the lake looked gray and cold, but on the opposite sh.o.r.e a tiny village nestled at the foot of a mountain, and over there the sun was shining, and the white houses gleamed brightly against the dull brown background. "It looks like a mirage," said Migwan to Hinpoha, who had dropped down on the sand at her feet.

Hinpoha glanced across the lake at the fairy scene and then back at Migwan. "What are you always writing in that book of yours?"

she asked curiously.

"Wouldn't you like to know, though!" replied Migwan, closing it up.

"Oh, let me see some of it, won't you, Migwan, dear?" said Hinpoha coaxingly. "I love to read what you write and I never make fun of it, you know that. Please do." After a little more coaxing Migwan relented and handed Hinpoha the page she had just written. Hinpoha spread it out on her knee and read:

"I was sitting in the woods rather pensively the other day when I suddenly became aware of two merry eyes fixed on me from the ground beside me. There was something so irresistibly roguish in their expression that my sadness leaked out of me unceremoniously.

As I looked the eyes disappeared behind a leaf, only to appear an instant later on the other side, and a tiny, round red face nodded cheerfully at me. Visions of wood sprites went through my head and I sat perfectly still, so as not to frighten him away. He had retired behind his leaf after that last nod, but as I made no sound he soon looked out again to see if I was still there. This time I got a good look at him. He was no elf, but a berry; a brilliant round red berry with two little holes in him that looked just like eyes. 'Such a cheerful berry, I thought, 'deserves a whole face,'

so I made him a nose and mouth with my pencil. When last I saw him he was still playing peek-a-boo among the leaves, enjoying the world for all he was worth."

"Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Hinpoha, when she had read that far, "you must let the other girls read this. Wouldn't you like me to ill.u.s.trate it for you? I'm just itching to paint that little red berry."

"That will be fine," said Migwan, and Hinpoha sped after her paint box. Hinpoha could not have written that little sketch if her life depended upon it, but her talent with the brush was unmistakable. With a few deft strokes she pictured Migwan sitting in the woods and beside her the little red berry with its comical face. Now it was Migwan's turn to admire. Hinpoha went on to the next paragraph:

"I walked on through the wood, admiring the little green moss stars that twinkled up from the ground. 'Oh, I must get a closer view,' I said, half aloud, and immediately my wish was granted, for a pine tree put out his foot and tripped me and I fell with my face right in the moss."

"How I should like to have seen you!" laughed Hinpoha as she painted Migwan sprawling on the ground. "Haven't you some more stuff I can ill.u.s.trate? There's such a lot of paint mixed up.

Oh, here's another one," she said, turning over the pages:

"I am sitting in the woods near Sandy Beach. Have been gathering 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 t.i.tle 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 ill.u.s.trate 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 had ill.u.s.trated and Nyoda was delighted. "You two had better form a permanent partnership," she advised. "You will produce something worth while in time." Then she added: "Wouldn't it be a fine idea for you to make an ill.u.s.trated book of the camp doings and send it to Professor Bentley and Professor Wheeler?

As long as they are so much interested in Camp Fire Girls nothing would please them better." Migwan and Hinpoha were enthusiastic over the idea and promised to begin that very day.

Sahwah, having determined not to clash with Gladys again, and to make a friend of her at all costs, lost no opportunity to do her service. She filled Gladys's water pail in the morning, she hung up her wet bathing suit when Gladys had gone off and left it lying on the tent floor, she paddled her out in the heavy sponson when she was dying to skim over the lake in the sailing canoe, and in short, sacrificed herself at every turn for Gladys. And Gladys in time began to look on her as a sort of serving maid, who would do any unpleasant task she happened to want done.

Nyoda could not help noticing this and wondered how long Sahwah would stand for it, but she said nothing to either one of them, preferring to watch matters take their course.

Things finally came to a head one afternoon during rest hour.

Sahwah was out of sorts that day. The night before she had stayed out on the lake after she had promised to come in and as a result had injured the canoe in the darkness. While Nyoda had not scolded her for staying out so long she knew she was disappointed in her and it made her cross with herself. Then the first thing that morning she had received a letter from her mother chiding her for not having written home for two weeks.

That made her crosser yet. During the folk dancing hour she could not keep her mind on her feet, and blundered so many times that Gladys, who was her partner, left the ring in disgust. Sahwah was sensitive about her dancing, which did not come very easy to her, and tried especially hard when dancing with Gladys, who did the figures with wonderful grace and skill, and Gladys's conduct on this occasion filled her with unutterable mortification.

Sahwah rushed away to her tent and got into her bathing suit and sat down on the dock, impatiently waiting for Nyoda's "All in!"

In swimming hour she managed to get herself into disfavor again.

Hinpoha was taking her test for towing a person to sh.o.r.e and was swimming with Nakwisi in tow. She was just nearing the dock where Nyoda stood watching to see if she could land her burden when Sahwah dove off the high tower, right on top of her and Nakwisi, carrying them both under the surface and breaking up the test. Nyoda uttered an impatient exclamation and sent Sahwah out of the water as a reminder to look before she dove the next time.

Sahwah's heart was nearly broken and she could hardly eat her dinner. She and Gladys were washing dishes that day, but when the time came Gladys pleaded a headache and went to the tent to lie down, leaving Sahwah to do them alone. It seemed that every dish in camp had been used that day. She finished at last, all tired out, and flung herself on her bed, resolved not to move until rest hour was over, and not then if she didn't feel like it. She was just sinking off into a delicious doze when Gladys reached over and pulled her by the foot.

"What do you want?" said Sahwah drowsily.

"Come on, take me for a ride in the sponson," said Gladys.

"Can't, it's rest hour," answered Sahwah.