The clapping burst out again. When it was done Winona and Billy started to paddle back to the prize-winners' enclosure, but a gesture of the herald stopped them. They paused, a little puzzled.

"Do they want us to say thank you?" wondered Winona.

Before Billy could turn the canoe the left-hand red-and-gold herald walked forth.

"Silver loving cup for greatest originality of conception also goes to Miss Merriam and Mr. Lee," read the herald.

They were clapped again-they could see Tom, on the grandstand, standing up and waving his hat-and then at last the marshal beckoned them to cross to the sparkling ring of other craft in the background. The winning launches, floats, rowboats and canoes were to act as a guard of honor to escort the royal float back to the grandstand, where the court carriages for the king and queen of the carnival waited.

They went to this place at last, and paused by their friends, the Camp Fire float and Marie's canoe.

"We got a fourth prize!" called Marie gayly as Winona stopped by her.

"Oh, Winona, you darling! You always were a mascot!"

"Marie always was an angel," thought Winona to herself. Edith was not so selfless.

"Congratulations, Win," she said bravely, holding out a tinsel-wrapped wrist across the canoes. "I'm glad you got it-but I wish we could have had something better. I think we deserved it."

"You certainly did," said Winona warmly. "But it doesn't much matter, you know, Edith. The main thing people will notice is that Camp Karonya landed three prizes. And think of that loving-cup sitting up, with 'Won by Camp Karonya,' on it!"

"Aren't you going to have your name put on it?" asked Edith.

"Certainly not!" said Winona. "It's a Camp trophy. I shall put my name on the back of the check for twenty-five dollars. That is pleasure enough."

"I think we've 'done n.o.ble,' all of us," said Marie. The canoes were paddling off by now, but the going was slow, and they could still talk.

"What did the float get?" asked Winona. "You know we were blown off in the dark, and lost track of events till the marshal came after us."

"Second," answered both girls together.

"You were the belle of the ball," added Marie.

"Well, I don't think we did so badly," declared Edith. "A first, second and a fourth prize all to one camp. I hope n.o.body thinks we got more than our share."

"We didn't," said Winona. "Oh, I'm so happy!"

"I'm rather pleased myself," said Billy's quiet voice from the other end of the canoe.

But it was not until the royal float had been escorted home, and everything was broken up, and Tom and Billy were paddling Winona back to camp, that he said what he really thought.

"I'm mighty glad you got that first prize," he said. "You deserved it if anybody ever did, for being such a little sport about dropping out of the float. I'd blow a lot of that money in right away if I were you, to congratulate myself."

"After I've paid back what I owe certain people," said Winona, "I shall divide with the Camp treasury. Even then I'll have a lot more than I ever thought of getting."

"Anyway, you were a real sport, and you deserved everything that was coming to you," repeated Billy, in which Tom agreed with him. And when your brother approves of you and says so you can generally be sure that you have done something remarkably right.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Next day was the "cold gray dawn of the morning after." Not that it was particularly cold or gray, but there was all the unnailing of the float to do, and the dismantling of the two decorated canoes. The girls wound the tinsel off carefully for use on future Christmas trees, and packed away in a box what other decorations were not perishable, for you never know when you're going to need things. Otherwise they sat around and gloated softly over Camp Karonya's exceeding brilliancy in carrying off prizes in large quant.i.ties.

Mrs. Bryan would not let Winona divide her money with the Camp, because they had enough already to see them through the rest of the time they were to spend there; and then, too, the second prize that the float had won was fifteen dollars.

Nothing else memorable happened that day, except that Nataly Lee left for home. She was thinner and in better condition than she had been when she came, but she frankly didn't like the life. To her, carrying water, instead of being a lark, was a nuisance. She had no particular pride in working for beads, and it was thought she was hungry for paper novels.

It worried her, too, that she was getting burned brown. So she went back to her mother. The girls saw her off, and sang her a cheer, and were as good as they could be. But it is not to be denied that Camp Karonya felt a little relief at her going.

After that nothing happened but regular camp work for three days. And then Louise proceeded to distinguish herself. It was to be expected.

Tom and Billy had taken Winona and Louise off for a day's fishing in the canoe. As usual, Winona and Louise provided the lunch, the boys the fishing-tackle and the canoe, and the fish were to be divided at the end of the day. They had fished most of the lazy, sunny morning, and it was noon. They climbed out of the canoe by a spring, washed their hands, and set out the lunch; the canoe was too fishy to be used as a dining-hall.

"Do you think that four of us can possibly eat all that?" inquired Billy, eying the piles of sandwiches, the veal loaf, the whole cake and the can of pears which graced the paper napkins on the gra.s.s.

"Well," explained Winona, "the truth is, Louise and I rather doubled up on this lunch. We were both afraid there wouldn't be enough, and each went separately and brought half a chocolate cake. You see it's cut down the middle. I merely joined the twin halves for the sake of looks. But do you think that's too many sandwiches for four people with real appet.i.tes?"

"I don't," said Tom decidedly. "I'll attend to anything that's left over. A very nice amount of lunch-just right. Watch me!"

But they did not watch him because they were otherwise engaged. None of them had small appet.i.tes, and they all did good work. Just the same when they were through there were a generous piece of cake, a fat slice of veal loaf, and seven sandwiches left.

"I told you so," said Billy. "Here, Tommy, it is up to you. Have these seven nice sandwiches."

"Can't be done," said Tom regretfully. "I've had that many. I had three pieces of cake, too."

"Doesn't matter!" said Billy. "A gentleman's word of honor--"

He prepared to jump on Tom and hold him, while Louise held a sandwich ready to insert.

"Ow!" said Tom. "Help! This is cruelty to animals. Pry him off, Winnie!"

"Oh, let up, please!" said Winona. "You know, he might explode, and mother'd feel badly."

Billy took one knee off, and Tom wriggled more vigorously. Louise relented, and the two girls were trying to pull Billy off Tom. They had almost succeeded, when a little rustle behind them made Winona, whose senses were the most alert, let go and turn. The others followed her eyes. They sat up and looked, and Tom jumped to his feet and began to dust himself off.

The newcomer, who was a most forlorn and bedraggled little girl, spoke very welcome words.

"Me's very hundry!" she said pathetically.

"You poor little thing!" said Louise. "Come here, dear; there's lots for you to eat." The little girl made straight for her. Louise got out a fresh paper napkin, and piled sandwiches, loaf, cake and all on it.

"Wait a minute," said Billy. "Is all that good for so little a girl-hadn't you better give her one at a time?"

Louise held the veal loaf poised in air on her fork. "Will your mother let you eat this?" she asked.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CHILD BEGAN TO EAT EVERYTHING AT ONCE]

The bedraggled small child sat down on the gra.s.s, as if the words were an invitation. She was a pretty, dirty child of perhaps five, dressed only in a soiled and ragged underwaist and petticoat, and with a mane of very long and heavy hair, all tangles and elf-locks. Her hair was yellow and her eyes big and blue, and she would have been pretty had she been cared-for looking.