to fill their water pitcher.
"What a strange person to have as councilor," ventured Gladys. "I
thought councilors at camps were always as sweet as they could be. Miss
Peckham looks as though she could be horrid without half trying."

"Maybe it's just her way, though," replied Migwan good temperedly. "She
may be very nice inside after we get to know her. She's probably never
been a councilor before, and thinks she must show her authority."

"Authority!" cried Gladys. "But we're not babies; we're grown up. I'm
afraid she's not going to be a very agreeable proctor."

"Oh, well," replied Migwan gently, "let's make the best of her and have
a good time anyway. We mustn't let her spoil our fun for us. We'll
probably find something to like in her before long."

"I wish I had your angelic disposition," sighed Gladys, "but I just
can't like people when they rub me the wrong way, and Miss Peckham does
that to me."

"There's going to be trouble with the Elephant's Child," remarked Migwan
soberly. "She has already taken a strong dislike to Miss Peckham, and
she is still childish enough to show it."

"Yes, I'm afraid there will be trouble between Bengal and Miss Peckham,"
echoed Gladys, "and we'll be constantly called upon to make peace. It's
a role I'm not anxious for."

"Let's not worry about it beforehand," said Migwan, charmed into a
blissful attitude of mind toward the whole world by the sheer beauty of
the scene that unrolled before her. The river, tinged by the long rays
of the late afternoon sun, gleamed like a river of living gold, blinding
her eyes and setting her to dreaming of magic seas and far countries.
She stood very still for many minutes, lost in golden fancies, until
Gladys took her gently by the arm.

"Come, Migwan, are you going to day-dream here forever? There is the
spring we are looking for, just at the end of that little path."

Migwan came slowly out of her reverie and followed Gladys down the hill
to the spring.

"It's all so beautiful," she sighed in ecstasy, turning to look back
once more at the shimmering water, "it just makes me _ache_. It makes
everything unworthy in me want to crawl away and lose itself, while
everything good in me wants to sing. Don't you feel that way about it,
too?"

"Something like that," replied Gladys softly. "When Nature is so lovely,
it makes me want to be lovely, too, to match. I don't see how anyone
could ever be angry here, or selfish, or mean. It's just like being made
over, with all the bad left out."

"It does seem that way," replied Migwan.

"Here is the spring!" cried both girls in unison, as they reached the
end of the path and came upon a deep, rocky basin, filled with crystal
clear water that gushed out from the rock above their heads, trickling
down through ferns to be caught and held in the pool below, so still and
shining that it reflected the faces of the two girls like a mirror.

"Oh-h!" breathed Migwan in rapture, sinking down among the ferns and
lilies that bordered the spring and dabbling her fingers in the limpid
water, "I feel just like a wood-nymph, or a naiad, or whatever those
folks were that lived by the springs and fountains in the Greek
mythology."

Withdrawing her fingers from the water and clasping her hands loosely
around her knees, she began to recite idly:

"Dian white-armed has given me this cool shrine,
Deep in the bosom of a wood of pine;
The silver sparkling showers
That hive me in, the flowers
That prink my fountain's brim, are hers and mine;
And when the days are mild and fair,
And grass is springing, buds are blowing,
Sweet it is, 'mid waters flowing,
Here to sit and know no care,
'Mid the waters flowing, flowing, flowing,
Combing my yellow, yellow hair."

"That poem must have been written about this very place," she added,
dreamily gazing into the shadowy depths of the pool beside her.

"Who wrote it?" inquired Gladys.

"I've forgotten," replied Migwan. "I learned it once in Literature, a
long time ago."

Both girls were silent, gazing meditatively into the pool, like
_ gazing into a future-revealing crystal, each absorbed in her
own day dreams. They were startled by the sound of a clear, musical
piping, coming apparently from the tangle of bushes behind them. Now
faint, now louder, it swelled and died away on the breeze, now fairly
startling in its joyousness, now plaintive as the wind sighing among
the reeds in some lonely spot after nightfall; alluring, thrilling,
mocking by turns; elusive as the strains of fairy pipers; utterly
ravishing in its sweetness.

Migwan and Gladys lifted their heads and looked at each other in wonder.

"Pipes of Pan!" exclaimed Migwan, and both girls glanced around, half
expecting to see the graceful form of a faun gliding toward them among
the trees. Nothing was to be seen, but the piping went on, merrily as
before, rising, falling, swelling, dying away in the distance, breaking
out again at near hand.

"Oh, what _is_ it?" cried Gladys. "Is it a bird?"

"It can't be a bird," replied Migwan, "it's a _tune--sort_ of a tune.
No, I wouldn't exactly call it a tune, either, but it's different from a
bird call. It sounds like pipes--fairy pipes--Pipes of Pan. Oh-h-h! Just
_listen_! What _can_ it be?"

The clear tones had leaped a full octave, and with a mingled sound of
pipes and flutes went trilling deliriously on a high note until the
listeners held their breath with delight. Then abruptly the piping
stopped, ending in a queer, unfinished way that tantalized their ears
for many minutes afterward, and held them motionless, spellbound,
waiting for the strain to be resumed. They listened in vain; the
mysterious piper called no more. Soon afterward a bugle pealed forth,
sounding the mess call, and coming to earth with a start, the two girls
raced back to Ponemah with their water pitcher and then hastened on
into the dining room, where the campers, now all clad in regulation blue
bloomers and white middies, were already assembled.




CHAPTER III


THE GREAT MYSTERY SOUND

After supper the camp was summoned to the smaller bungalow for first
assembly and Sing-Out. Over the wide entrance doorway of this
picturesque building among the trees was painted in large ornamental
letters:

MATEKA

THE HOUSE OF JOYOUS LEARNING

This house, Dr. Grayson explained, was the place where all the craft
work was to be done. The light from the lamps fell upon beautifully
decorated board walls; wood-blocked curtains, quaint rustic benches and
seats made from logs with the bark left on; flower-holders fashioned of
birch bark; candlesticks of hammered brass, silver and copper; book
covers of beaded leather; vases and bowls of glazed clay.

At one end of the long room stood a piano; at the other end was the huge
cobblestone fireplace whose chimney the Winnebagos had noticed from the
outside; in it a fire was laid ready for lighting.

The seventy-five girls filed in and seated themselves on the floor,
looking expectantly at Dr. Grayson, who stood before the fireplace. He
was an imposing figure as he stood there, a man over six feet tall, with
a great head of white hair like a lion's mane, which, emphasizing the
ruddy complexion and clear blue eyes, contrived to make him look
youthful instead of old.

In a beautiful speech, full of both wisdom and humor, he explained the
ideals of camp life, and heartily welcomed the group before him into the
family circle of Camp Keewaydin. He spoke of the girls who in past years
had stood out from the others on account of their superior camp spirit,
and led up to the subject of the Buffalo Robe, which at the end of the
season would be awarded to the one who should be voted by her fellow
campers as the most popular girl.

A solemn hush fell over the assembly as he spoke, and all eyes were
fastened upon the Buffalo Robe, hanging over the fireplace. Agony's
heart gave a leap at the sight of the beautiful trophy, and then sank as
she saw innumerable eyes turn to rest upon Mary Sylvester, sitting on a
low stool at Dr. Grayson's feet, gazing up at him with a look of worship
in her expressive eyes.

When he had finished speaking of the Buffalo Robe Dr. Grayson announced
that the first fire of the season was to be lighted in the House of
Joyous Learning to dedicate it to this year's group of campers, and
kneeling down on the hearth, he touched off the faggots laid ready in
the fireplace, and the flames, leaping and snapping, rose up the
chimney, sending a brilliant glow over the room, and causing the most
homesick youngster to brighten up and feel immensely cheered.

The fire lighted, and the House of Joyous Learning dedicated to its
present occupants, Dr. Grayson proceeded to introduce the camp leaders
and councilors. Mrs. Grayson came first, as Camp Mother and Chief
Councilor. She was a large woman, and seemed capable of mothering the
whole world as she sat before the hearth, beaming down upon the girls
clustered around her on the floor, and there was already a note of
genuine affection in the voices of the new girls as they joined in the
cheer which the old girls started in honor of the Camp Mother.

The cheer was not yet finished when there was a sound of footsteps on
the porch outside and a new girl stood in the doorway. She carried a
blanket over one arm and held a small traveling bag in her hand. Her
face was flushed with exertion and her chest heaved as she stood there
looking inquiringly about the room with merry eyes that seemed to be
delighted with everything they looked upon. Her face was round; her
little button mouth was round; the comical stub of a nose which perched
above it gave the effect of being round, too, while the deep dimple that
indented her chin was very, _very_ round. Two still deeper dimples
lurked in her cheeks, each one a silent chuckle, and the freckles that
clustered thickly over her features all seemed to twinkle with a
separate and individual hilarity.

An involuntary smile spread over the faces inside the bungalow as they
looked at the newcomer, and one of the younger girls laughed aloud. That
was the signal for a general laugh, and for a moment the room rang, and
the strange girl in the doorway joined in heartily, and Dr. Grayson
laughed, too, and everybody felt "wound up" and hilarious. Mrs. Grayson
left her chair by the hearth and made her way through the group of girls
on the floor to the newcomer, holding out her hand in welcome.

"You must be Jean Lawrence," she said, drawing the girl into the room.
"You were to arrive by automobile at Green's Landing this noon, were you
not, and come across the river in the mail boat? I have been wondering
why you did not arrive on that boat."

"Our automobile broke down on that road that runs through the long woods
beyond Green's Landing," replied Jean, "and when father found it could
not be fixed on the road he decided to go back to the last town we had
passed through and spend the night there; so I had to walk to Green's
Landing. It was nearly nine miles and it took me all afternoon to get
there. The mail boat had, of course, gone long ago, but a nice old
grandpa man brought me over in a row boat."

"You walked nine miles to Green's Landing!" exclaimed Mrs. Grayson in
astonishment. "But, my dear, why didn't you wait and let your father
drive you down in the morning?"

"Oh, I wouldn't miss a single night in camp for anything in the world!"
replied Jean. "I would have walked if it had been _twenty_-nine miles. I
nearly died of impatience before I got here, as it was!"

Mrs. Grayson beamed on the enthusiastic camper; the old girls sang a
lusty cheer to the new girl who was such a good sport; and, twinkling
and beaming in all directions, Jean sat down on the floor with the
others to hear the camp councilors introduced.

Dr. Grayson began by quoting humorously from the Proverbs: "Where no
council is, the people fall, but in a multitude of councilors there is
safety."

One by one he called the councilors up and introduced them, beginning
with his daughter Judith, who was to be gymnastic director at the camp.
Miss Judy got up and made a bow, and then prepared to sit down again,
but her father would not let her off so easily. He demanded a
demonstration of her profession for the benefit of the campers. Miss
Judy promptly lined all the other councilors up and put them through a
series of ridiculous exercises, such as "Tongues forward thrust!" "Hand
on pocket place!" "Handkerchief take!" "Noses blow!"--performance which
was greeted with riotous applause by the campers.

Miss Armstrong was called up next and introduced as "our little friend
from Australia, the swimming teacher, who, on account of her diminutive
size goes by the nickname of Tiny." Tiny was made to give her native
Australian bush call of "Coo-ee! Coo-ee!" and was then told to rescue a
drowning person in pantomime, which she did so realistically that the
campers sat in shivering fascination. Tiny, still grave and unsmiling,
sat down amid shouts for encore, and refused to repeat her performance,
pretending to be overcome with bashfulness. Dr. Grayson then rose and
said that since Tiny was too modest to appear in public herself, he
would bring out her most cherished possession to respond to the encore,
and held up the gaudy blanket that Katherine and Oh-Pshaw had already
made merry over in the tent, explaining that Tiny always chose quiet,
dull colors to match her retiring nature. With a teasing twinkle in his
eyes he handed Tiny her blanket and then passed on to the next victim.

This was Pom-pom, the dancing teacher, who was obliged to do a dance on
the piano stool to illustrate her art. Pom-pom received a perfect
ovation, especially from the younger girls, and was called out half a
dozen times.

"Oh, the sweet thing! The darling!" gushed Bengal Virden, going into a
perfect ecstasy on the floor beside Gladys. "Don't you just _adore_
her?"

"She's very pretty," replied Gladys sincerely.

"Pretty!" returned Bengal scornfully. "She's the most beautiful person
on earth! Oh, I love her so, I don't know what to _do_!"

Gladys smiled indulgently at Bengal's gush, and turned away to see Jane
Pratt's dull, unpleasant eyes gazing contemptuously upon Pom-pom's
performance, and heard her whisper to her neighbor, "She's too
stiff-legged to be really graceful."

The Lone Wolf from Labrador, summoned to stand up and show herself next,
was a long, lean, mournful-looking young woman who, when introduced,
explained in a lugubrious voice that she had no talents like the rest of
the councilors and didn't know enough to be a teacher of anything; but
she was very good and pious, and had been brought to camp solely for her
moral effect upon the other councilors.

For a moment the camp girls looked at the Lone Wolf in silence, not
knowing what to make of her; then Sahwah noticed that Mrs. Grayson was
biting her lips, while her eyes twinkled; Dr. Grayson was looking at the
girls with a quizzical expression on his face; Miss Judy had her face
buried in her handkerchief. Sahwah looked back at the Lone Wolf,
standing there with her hands folded angelically and her eyes fixed
solemnly upon the ceiling, and she suddenly snorted out with laughter.
Then everyone caught on and laughed, too, but the Lone Wolf never
smiled; she stood looking at them with an infinitely sad, pained
expression that almost convinced them that she had been in earnest.

The Lone Wolf, it appeared, was to be Tent Inspector, and when that
announcement was made, the laughter of the old girls turned to groans of
pretended aversion, which increased to a mighty chorus when Dr. Grayson
added that her eye had never been known to miss a single detail of
disorder in a tent.

Thus councilor after councilor was introduced in a humorous speech by
Dr. Grayson, and made to do her particular stunt, or was rallied about
her pet hobby. The two Arts and Crafts teachers were given lumps of clay
and a can of house paint and ordered to produce a statue and a landscape
respectively; the Sing Leader had to play "Darling, I Am Growing Old" on
a pitch pipe, and all the plain "tent councilors" were called upon for a
"few remarks."

All were cheered lustily, and all gave strong evidence of future
popularity except Miss Peckham, who drew only a very scattered and
perfunctory applause. Gladys and Migwan, who glanced at each other as
Miss Peckham stepped forward, were surprised to hear that she was Dr.
Grayson's cousin.

"That accounts for her being here," Gladys whispered, and Migwan
whispered in return, "We'll just have to make the best of her."

Bengal glowered at Miss Peckham and made no pretense of applauding her,
and Migwan saw her whispering to the group around her, and saw Bengal's
expression of dislike swiftly reflected on the faces of her listeners.
Thus, before Miss Peckham was fairly introduced, her unpopularity was
already sealed. It takes very little to make a reputation at camp.
Estimates are formed very swiftly, and great attachments and antipathies
are formed at first sight. Young girls seem to scent, by some mysterious
intuition, who is really in sympathy with them, and who is only
pretending to be, and bestow or withhold their affections accordingly.
In the code of the camp girl classifications are very simple; a camper
is either a "peach" or a "prune." All the other councilors were
"peaches"; that was the instantaneous verdict of the Keewaydin Campers
during the introductions; Miss Peckham, regardless of the fact that she
was Dr. Grayson's cousin, was a "prune."

The last councilor to be introduced was a handsome, white-haired woman
named Miss Amesbury, who was introduced as the patron saint of the camp,
the designer of the beautiful Mateka, the House of Joyous Learning.
Miss Amesbury was neither an instructor nor a tent councilor; she had
just come to be a friend and helper to the whole camp, and lived on the
second story balcony of Mateka. Word had traveled around among the girls
that she was a famous author, and a ripple of expectation agitated the
ranks of the campers as she rose in answer to Dr. Grayson's summons.
Migwan gazed upon her in mingled awe and veneration. A famous
author--one who had realized the ambition that was also her cherished
own! She almost stopped breathing in her emotion.

"Isn't she lovely?" breathed Hinpoha to Agony, her eye taking in the
details of Miss Amesbury's camping suit, which, instead of being made of
serge or khaki, like those of the other councilors, was of heavy
Japanese silk, with a soft, flowered tie.

Smiling a smile which included every girl in the room, she cordially
invited them all to come and visit her balcony and share the beautiful
view which she had of the river and the gorge. Then she added a few
humorous comments upon camp life, and sat down amid tumultuous applause.

Then Dr. Grayson asked her if she would play for the singing, and she
rose graciously and took her place at the piano. The Sing leader stood
up on a bench and directed with a wooden spoon from the craft table, and
the first Sing-Out began. For half an hour the mingled voices were
lifted in glee and round, in part song and ballad, until the roof rang.
The new girls, spelling out the words in the song books by the rather
pale lamplight, came out strongly in some parts and wobbly in others,
producing some tone effects which caused the old girls to double up with
merriment, but the new girls showed their good sportsmanship by singing
on lustily no matter how many mistakes they made, a fact which caused
Dr. Grayson to beam approvingly upon them. In the midst of a
particularly hilarious song the bugle suddenly blew for going to bed,
and the old girls, still singing, began to drift out of the house and
make for the tents in groups of twos and threes, with their arms thrown
around each other's shoulders. The new girls followed, some feeling shy
and a bit homesick this first night away from home; others already
perfectly at home, their arms around a new friend made in the short time
since their arrival. One such was Jean Lawrence, who, upon being
informed that she was to be "tenty" to Katherine and Oh-Pshaw in Bedlam,
expressed herself as being unutterably delighted with her tent mates and
walked off with them chattering as easily as though she had known them
all her life.

There was more or less confusion this first night before everyone got
settled, for many of the girls had never camped before and were
unskilled in the art of undressing rapidly in the close quarters of a
tent, and "Taps" sounded before a number were even undressed. The Lone
Wolf was lenient this first night, however, and did not insist upon
prompt lights out, an act of grace which added greatly to her
popularity.

Sahwah's bed sagged somewhat in the middle and she was not able to
adjust herself to its curves very well; consequently she did not fall
asleep soon. Camp quieted down; the last rustle and whisper died away;
silence enfolded the tents around. Sahwah, lying wide awake in the
darkness, her senses alert, heard the sound of footsteps running at full
speed along the top of the bluff and across the bare rocks at the edge.
Here the footsteps seemed to come to a pause, and an instant later there
came a sound like a loud splash in the water below. Filled both with
curiosity and apprehension, Sahwah leaped from bed and raced for the
edge of the bluff, where she stood peering down at the river. No unusual
ripple appeared on the placid surface of the river; as far as she could
see it lay calm and peaceful in the moonlight.

A footstep behind her startled her, and she turned to see Miss Judy
coming toward her from the tent.

"What's the matter?" called Miss Judy, when she was within a few yards
of Sahwah.

"It sounded as though someone jumped off the cliff," replied Sahwah. "I
heard footsteps along the edge of the bluff, and then a splash, and I
ran out to see what was going on, but I can't see anything."

To Sahwah's surprise, Miss Judith laughed aloud. "Oh," she said, "did
you hear it?"

"What was it?" asked Sahwah, curiously.

"That," replied Miss Judy, "is what we call the Great Mystery Sound. We
hear it off and on, but no one has ever been able to explain what causes
it. Our 'diving ghost,' we call it. Father wore himself to a frazzle the
first year we were here, trying to find out what it was. He used to sit
up nights and watch, but although he often heard it he never could see
anything that could produce the sound. Some people about here have told
us that that sound has been heard for years and they say that there is
an old legend connected with it to the effect that many years ago an
Indian girl, pursued by an unwelcome suitor, jumped off this bluff and
drowned herself to escape him, and that ever since that occurrence this
strange sound has been noticeable. Of course, the people who tell the
legend say that the ghost of the persecuted maiden haunts the scene of
the tragedy at intervals and repeats the performance. Whatever it is, we
have never been able to account for the sound naturally, and always
refer to it as the Great Mystery Sound."

"What a strange thing!" exclaimed Sahwah in wonder. "Those footsteps
certainly sounded real; and as for that splash! It actually made my
flesh creep. I had a panicky feeling that one of the new girls had
wandered too near the edge of the bluff and had fallen into the water."

"It used to have that effect upon us at first, too," replied Miss Judy.
"We would all come racing down here with our hearts in our mouths,
expecting we knew not what. It took a long time before we could believe
it was a delusion.

"And now, come back to bed, or you'll be taking cold, standing out here
in your nightgown."

Still looking back at the river and half expecting to see some agitation
in its surface, Sahwah followed Miss Judy back to Gitchee-Gummee and
returned to bed.




CHAPTER IV


THE ALLEY INITIATION

Folk-dancing hour had just drawn to a close, and the long bugle for
swimming sounded through camp. The sets of eight which had been drawn up
on the tennis court in the formation of "If All the World Were Paper,"
broke and scattered as before a whirlwind as the girls raced for their
tents to get into bathing suits. Sahwah, as might be expected, was first
down on the dock, but close at her heels was another girl whom she
recognized as living in one of the Avenue tents. This girl, while
broader and heavier than Sahwah, moved with the same easy grace that
characterized Sahwah's movements, and like Sahwah, she seemed consumed
with impatience to get into the water.

"Oh, I wish Miss Armstrong would hurry, hurry, hurry!" she exclaimed,
jigging up and down on the dock. "I just can't wait until I get in."

"Neither can I," replied Sahwah, scanning the path down the hillside for
a sight of the swimming director.

"Do you live in the Avenue or the Alley?" asked the girl beside her.

"In the Alley," replied Sahwah.

"Which tent?"

"Gitchee-Gummee. Which one are you in?"

"Jabberwocky."

"That's way up near the bungalow, isn't it?"

"Yes, where are you?"

"The very last tent in the Alley, that one there, buried in the trees."

"Oh, how lovely! You're right near the path to the river, aren't you? I
wish I were a little nearer this end. It would save time getting to the
water."

"But you're so near the bungalow that you only have to go a step when
the breakfast bugle blows. You have the advantage there," replied
Sahwah. "We down in Gitchee-Gummee have to run for all we're worth to
get there before you're all assembled. We have hard work getting dressed
in time. We put on our ties while we're running down the path, as it
is."

The other girl laughed, showing a row of very white, even teeth. "Did
you see that girl who came running into the dining-room this morning
with her middy halfway over her head?"

Sahwah laughed, too, at the recollection. "That was Bengal Virden, the
one they call the Elephant's Child," she replied. "She lives in Ponemah,
with some friends of mine. She had loitered with her dressing and
didn't have her middy on when the breakfast bugle blew, so she decided
to put it on en route. But while she was pulling it on over her head she
got stuck fast in it with her arms straight up in the air and had to
come in that way and get somebody to pull her through. I never saw
anything so funny," she finished.

"Neither did I," replied the other.

They looked at each other and laughed heartily at the remembrance of the
ludicrous episode.

All this while Sahwah was trying to recollect her companion's name, but
was unable to do so. It was impossible to remember which girls had
answered to which names at the general roll call on that first night in
Mateka.

Just then the other said, "I don't believe I recall your name--I'm very
stupid about remembering things."

"That's just what I was going to say to you!" exclaimed Sahwah, with a
merry laugh. "It's impossible to remember so many new names at once. I
think we all ought to be labeled for the first week or so. I'm Sarah Ann
Brewster, only they call me Sahwah."

"What a queer nickname! It's very interesting. Is it a contraction of
Sarah Ann?"

"No, it's my Camp Fire name."

"Oh, are you a Camp Fire girl?"

"Yes."

"How splendid! I've always wished I could be one. What does the name
mean?"

"Sunfish!" replied Sahwah. "The sun part means that I like sunshine and
the fish part means that I like the water."

"Oh-h!" replied the other with an interested face. Then she began to
introduce herself. "I haven't any nice symbolic name like yours," she
said, "but mine is sort of queer, too."

"What is it?" asked Sahwah.

"Undine."

"Undine!" repeated Sahwah. "How lovely! I've always been perfectly crazy
about Undine since I got the book on my tenth birthday. Undine was fond
of water, like I was. What's the rest of your name?"

"Girelle," replied Undine.

"Do you live in the east or in the west?" asked Sahwah. "You don't speak
like the Easterners, and yet you don't speak like us Westerners, either.
What part of the country are you from?"

"No part at all," answered Undine. "My home is in Honolulu."

"Not really?" said Sahwah in astonishment.

"Really," replied Undine, smiling at Sahwah's look of surprise. "I was
born in Hawaii, and I have lived there most of my life."

"Oh," said Sahwah, "I thought only Hawaiians lived in Hawaii--I didn't
know anyone else was ever _born_ there."

"Lots of white people are born there," replied Undine, politely
checking the smile that wreathed her lips at Sahwah's ingenuous remark.
"But," she added, "most of the people in the States seem to think no one
lives in Hawaii but natives, and that they wear wreaths of flowers
around their necks all the time and do nothing but play on ukuleles."

Sahwah laughed and made up her mind that she was going to like Undine
very much. "I suppose you swim?" she asked, presently.

Undine nodded emphatically. "It's the thing I like to do best of
anything in the world. Do you like it? Oh, yes, of course you do. You
call yourself the Sunfish on that account."

Sahwah affirmed her love for the deep, and thrilled a little at
discovering an enthusiasm to match hers in this girl from Honolulu. The
rest of the Winnebagos, although good swimmers, did not possess in an
equal degree Sahwah's inborn passion for the water. Sahwah and Undine
both felt the call of the river as it flowed past the dock; to each of
them it beckoned with an irresistible invitation, until they could
hardly restrain themselves from leaping off the boards into the cool,
glassy depths below.

"Here comes Miss Armstrong!" shouted somebody at the other end of the
dock, as the big Australian came into view down the path, and there was
a scramble for the diving tower.

The swimming place at Camp Keewaydin was divided into three parts. A
shallow cove at the left of the dock, where the curve of the river
formed a tiny bay, was the sporting ground of the Minnows, the girls who
could not swim at all; the Perch, or those who could swim a little, but
were not yet sure of themselves, were assigned to the other side of the
dock, where the water was slightly deeper, but where they were protected
by the dock from the full force of the current; while the Sharks, the
expert swimmers, were given the freedom of the river beyond the end of
the pier. The diving tower was on the end of the pier and belonged
exclusively to the Sharks; it was fifteen feet high, and had seven
different diving boards placed at various heights. Besides the diving
tower, there was a floating dock anchored out in midstream, having a
springboard at either end. There was also a low diving board at the side
of the pier for the Perch to practice on.

Miss Armstrong came down on the dock in a bright red bathing suit which
shone brilliantly among the darker suits of the girls. She rapidly
separated the Minnows from the other fish, and set them to learning
their first strokes under the direction of one of the other councilors.
Then she lined the remaining girls up for the test which would determine
who were Sharks and who were Perch. The test consisted of a dive from
any one of the diving boards of the tower and a demonstration of four
standard strokes, ending up with a swim across the river and back.

About a dozen dropped out at the mere reading of the test and accepted
their rating as Perch without a trial; as many more failed either to
execute their dives properly or to give satisfaction in their swimming
strokes. Sahwah, burning with impatience to show her skill, climbed
nimbly up to the very top of the tower and went off the highest
springboard in a neat back dive that drew applause from the watchers,
including Miss Armstrong. She also passed the rest of the test with a
perfect rating.

"You're the biggest Shark so far," remarked Miss Armstrong, as Sahwah
clambered up on the dock after her swim across the river, during which
she had almost outdistanced the boat which accompanied her over and
back.

Sahwah smiled modestly as one of the old campers started a cheer for
her, and turned to watch Undine Girelle, who was mounting the diving
tower. When Undine also went off the highest springboard backward, and
in addition turned a complete somersault before she touched the water,
Sahwah realized that she had met her match, if not her master.
Heretofore, Sahwah's swimming prowess had been unrivalled in whatever
group she found herself, and it was a matter of course with the
Winnebagos that Sahwah should carry off all honors in aquatics. Now they
had to admit that in Undine Girelle Sahwah had a formidable rival and
would have to look sharply to her laurels.

"Isn't she wonderful?" came in exclamations from all around, as Undine
sported in the water like a dolphin. "But then," someone added, "she's
used to bathing in the surf in Hawaii. No wonder."

There were about fifteen put in the Shark class in the first try-out, of
whom Sahwah and Undine were acknowledged to be the best. Hinpoha and
Gladys and Migwan also qualified as Sharks; Katherine went voluntarily