They had always found that their mother knew what she was talking about, and they were eager to see the Indians' lake, so they turned over in their little up-stairs beds and in a surprisingly short few minutes it was morning.
The next night they spent in another sort of little beds, only this time they were on a large steamer on a lake that stretched away as far as they could see, just like the ocean. The children could scarcely believe that those great waves were not salt.
"What would an Indian in his little canoe have thought to see a big mountain of a ship like this coming along toward him?" asked Hal.
His father shook his head. "The canoes kept near the shore, I suspect. You will see the sort of shore tomorrow."
When they arrived at their destination the children were pleased to find a sandy beach, and the foaming surf which looked good to wade in.
They found a little log cabin waiting for them and it was nestled in pine woods on the side of a hill. Their father was busy at the wharf some time about the luggage, and when he arrived at the house he looked at the children with a laugh in his eyes but his lips very sober.
"What do you think I have just found out?" he asked when the men had brought the trunks and gone away.
The children listened eagerly. They liked this forest hill full of Christmas trees, with enough spaces in front of the cabin to look through to the blue lake, and they could hardly wait to hear what their father had to tell them.
"What is it? What is it?" they asked together.
"Have you been holding your bowls right side up all the morning? Have they, Mother?" he asked, turning to his wife, who was examining the way the little windows opened like doors.