"I'm going to sleep in the tree-house," answered Migwan.
"Sleep in the tree-house?" echoed Nyoda, "isn't there room enough in the tent?"
"Oh, there's room enough," said Migwan, "that isn't the reason. I just want to do it for the experience. I was lying awake the other night, listening to the wind singing through the treetops, and I thought of all the little birds sleeping up in the trees, and decided I would try it and see what it was like."
"Her poet's soul spurns the common earth, and she seeks the treetops to be nearer the sky," said Nyoda banteringly. "If I may intrude such a material question among your ethereal desires," she continued, "how are you going to get your blankets up there?"
Migwan stopped, a little taken aback. The tree-house was more than thirty feet from the ground and in order to get into it the girls had to climb up the limbs of the tree. Some of the branches were far apart and it was quite a stretch to make the distance, while the long space from the ground to the first branch was notched to assure a foothold. It was easy enough climbing empty-handed, but scrambling up there with an armful of blankets was another matter. Nyoda watched the expression on Migwan's face with keen amusement. This was the sort of thing she was always doing—her poetic fancy would be kindled to a certain idea without ever stopping to consider the practical side. But Migwan was resourceful as well as romantic. She took in the situation at a glance, laid her blankets at the foot of the tree, and repaired to the kitchen, whence she presently emerged with a long rope, made of sundry short ropes tied together and pieced out with strips of cloth. Winding this around her waist, she climbed the tree and fastened one end of it to the railing of the Crow's Nest. Then she let the other end down, asked Nyoda to tie her bedding to it, and hauled it up with the greatest ease. The floor struck her as being far from soft when she spread her blankets out, and by dint of much labor she also hauled up her mattress. Then she had a further inspiration and laid the mattress across two poles, which kept it up off the floor and made it softer yet.
The moon and stars seemed very close, when she finally had the bed fixed to her satisfaction and stood looking around her. In fact, it seemed as if she could put out her hand and grasp the Great Bear by the tail. Jupiter was just at her left hand, peeking impudently through the branches while she undressed. Down below the tents gleamed ghostly in the pale light.
What an airy cradle it was, after she was rolled in the blankets and fixed comfortably for sight seeing! The breezes fiddled through the twigs, making elfin music, and the tree-house swayed gently. It was too beautiful to sleep through, and Migwan lay awake hour after hour in wonder and delight, watching the moon steer her placid course across the sky. She saw Jupiter culminate and incline to westward; saw Arcturus sink behind the hills, and watched the Dipper go wheeling round the pole like the hand of an enormous clock.
Off somewhere in the woods a whip-poor-will was lamenting; the waves splashed against the rocks below; a cricket chirped at the foot of the tree. Migwan turned over to get a look at the view on the other side and her pillow went overboard with a soft plop. She leaned over the edge to see where it had gone and the poles slid gently apart, letting the mattress down flat on the floor. She adjusted herself to the new position and continued looking up.
When all the stars had traveled to the morning side of the sky she finally dropped off to sleep, only to waken again with the first faint gray light of dawn. A frowzy, cocky-looking bird flew into the tree just above her head and balanced himself on the limb. He had evidently been out all night and was sneaking home in the wee sma' hours, much the worse for dissipation. He teetered back and forth for a moment, then began unsteadily climbing the stairs up the branches. Migwan hoped his wife was waiting for him at the top step, and listened to hear the curtain lecture he would receive. She heard no uproar, however and concluded he was a bachelor and could go and come when he pleased.
In contrast to Migwan's peaceful night, Hinpoha lay tossing in dire distress. She was no sooner in bed than the biscuits she had gobbled for dinner started to make war on the slumgullion, and the lemonade began to have words with the blueberries. The fudge was a power unto itself and made war on all the rest. Hinpoha tried to get up and get something to relieve herself, but she was so dizzy she couldn't stand. A great monstrous biscuit was sitting on the pit of her stomach, squeezing the breath out of her, and she sank back on the pillow. Sahwah finally heard her groan and got up and brought her some hot water, which settled the dispute going on in her stomach.