With ears strained to listen he began to walk toward the sound. Soon he saw the soft glow of a fire shining through the distant trees and hastened toward it.
"The torch shall draw them to the fire—" The wind carried the words distinctly to his ears. Through the wet loneliness of the woods the flame drew him like a magnet. Drawing nearer he saw a bright fire burning high in the middle of an open space, unchecked by the rain, and around it moved a number of black-robed figures. He recognized the Winnebagos, clad in bathing suits and bathing caps, and covered with their ponchos, calmly having their Ceremonial Meeting in the pouring rain. The song over, they sat down in a circle and went through their ritual with the water streaming over their firelit faces. A play was enacted, which he made out to be a pantomime presentation of "Cinderella," and he recognized Nyoda in the guise of the fairy godmother. Hinpoha was the prince and Migwan Cinderella. In the teeming rain she was rescued from her ashy seat by the fireplace and borne to the ball. As the prince bent over to fit the slipper to her foot a perfect torrent rolled off his poncho into her lap and threatened to swamp the romance. They plighted their troth with one hand and held their ponchos around them with the other.
Sherry pulled his sou'wester down over his ears and standing under the shelter of a pine tree watched the performance to the end. "Glory, what a bunch of girls," he muttered to himself. "Having fun out in the wet woods while our boys are sticking around in their dry bungalows!" The Council Fire came to an end and the girls filed out among the trees singing the goodnight song. Of course Sherry didn't know the difference, but instead of singing the regular words, "May the peace of our firelit faces," most of the girls were singing, "May the peace of our dripping noses!" Nyoda was the last to come, as she had lingered to extinguish the fire, and Sherry placed himself directly in her path and stepped out from behind a tree as she came along. She started violently and flashed her bug light in his face. "Don't be afraid," he said, embarrassed and blushing, "it's only I, come to tell you that the boys can accept your invitation to go to Blueberry Island next Wednesday."
"Oh," said Nyoda, lowering her bug light and laughing, "that's very good news indeed. The girls will be glad to hear it. I must tell them right away!"
Sherry thought to himself that the news might keep awhile, as he had several other topics of conversation which would have beguiled the way up to the tents, but Nyoda called out to the girls and they came running back and swarmed all over her, and there was no chance for the poor man to say a word. After standing around for a few minutes he took his leave and paddled back to Mountain Lake Camp, looking rather drenched and forlorn.
The girls spent the next day in preparation for the picnic, full of joyous anticipation, but Gladys was filled with secret trepidation. She knew Ed Roberts would be there, and would try to force himself upon her, and she was afraid her pleasure would be spoiled. She said nothing about it, however, for she feared Nyoda would take some decisive action which might result in none of the boys being allowed to go.
Migwan came along in the midst of the preparation and announced that her red middy tie had disappeared. The words were hardly out of her mouth when Hinpoha came in declaring that her bathing cap must have evaporated, for it was gone from the tent ropes where she had left it. The girls looked at one another with consternation in their faces. If some one wasn't playing a joke there must be a thief in camp! That one of the Winnebagos should be taking the other girls' things was inconceivable. They were bound to each other by bonds stronger than sisterhood; they knew each other's very thoughts, almost, and to suspect one of their number of stealing hurt worse than a blow; and yet here were their things disappearing almost under their hands! No, the thing was impossible. What would one Winnebago gain by taking the other girls' clothes? She could not wear them without instant detection and they would be worth nothing if sold. A scarf, a white skirt with a seam burst open, a tie with a spot of ink in it, a half-worn bathing cap—what could induce any one to take them? The thing became uncanny.
Nyoda wondered uncomfortably how long Sherry had been in camp the previous night before he had made himself known, and Gladys shuddered at the possibility of Ed Roberts having a hand in it. Each time things had disappeared some one from Mountain Lake Camp had been over. The girls had been in the habit of leaving all their belongings open and spread around, with never a thought for their safety, but now they began putting them away carefully. They all felt uncomfortable doing it and each one hoped she was unobserved. There was an air of restraint about the camp that had never existed before, and it reacted in a general crossness. The singing in the evening seemed all out of tune and the fire smoked because the wood was damp and everything had a false note in it. Nyoda was glad when it was time to blow the bugle.
Even then there was no immediate peace. No sooner were they settled in bed than from the lake below came the sound of a manly voice raised in song, accompanied by the strumming of a guitar. "There's your lover, Gladys," giggled Sahwah, "I recognize his voice. He plays the guitar, his brother told me so." Gladys hid her face in the pillow and the girls kept on teasing her. "Aren't you going to reward your gallant troubadour by tossing him a flower or a glove, or something?" called Nyoda from the other tent.
"I'd like to toss him a rock," said Gladys savagely to herself. Finding his efforts unrecognized, the serenader finally desisted, and they heard the dipping of his paddle as he departed.