CHAPTER VI. THE GOLDEN KEY.
The next time Lois and Hal asked Wenonah for a story she said she had noticed how happy they seemed to be together and that they made her think of a little brother and sister she knew of who lived in a far country where the rivers had very long names.
"Will you tell us about them?" asked Lois, as she and Hal settled themselves to work on their baskets.
"Yes," replied Wenonah. "This special river that I am thinking of was named Wapsipinicon." Her eyes sparkled at the children as she said it, for she knew that name was a mouthful.
"Whew!" exclaimed Hal, "I'd have to practice a week to say that word."
"Well, if you had seen this river," went on Wenonah, "you wouldn't have cared what its name was, it was so lovely. It did not run very swiftly, but dreamed along between its flowery banks like a maiden who strolls in pleasant paths, musing as she goes.
The water was so clear you could see the fish swimming in it, and the gold-brown sand at the bottom. The rocks that peeped out here and there made little whirlpools and waterfalls as the river gurgled around them.
This brother and sister loved each other so much they never thought of quarreling. Where you saw one you would be pretty sure to find the other. They were very fond of playing on the river bank because the best wild flowers grew there and when their work was done around their home they would run a race every day to see which would get into the woods first, and then, crashing through the bushes and between the big trees, they would scamper until they came out into the sunshine again by the river.
They loved that beautiful playmate, the river, always running away, yet always there, whispering and laughing and welcoming them with every sunny ripple.