“Here,” said the Captain, entirely light-hearted again, and holding up the little bucket he had carried away from the sugar camp, “cry into the pail. Evaporate the water. Save the salt. It’s worth money.”
And Hinpoha giggled foolishly and dried her tears and raced back to the cabin as fast as she could go, to stave off pneumonia on her arrival with hot blankets and steaming drinks.
“He is a hero,” she murmured dreamily to Gladys, who hovered around her like an anxious grandmother, after the others were satisfied that she was all right, and had set to work getting supper; “he never once said, ‘I told you so’!”
CHAPTER XII
HINPOHA’S ROMANCE
An indistinct murmur floated down from the Winnebago room of the Open Door Lodge, punctuated by little squeals and exclamations. The firelight shown on four tense faces, and four pairs of eyes were riveted on the two figures in the center of the group who were engaged in a very singular occupation. Balanced between two stiffly outstretched and quivering right forefingers hung a key, and suspended from it by a string was a black-covered book, supposed to be set apart from all secular uses. In a breathless undertone Hinpoha—for she was the owner of one of the aforesaid fingers—was chanting a passage of scripture designed for a widely different application. A strained hush was followed by another outbreak of exclamations. “Look, it’s turning! It began to turn the minute she said, ‘Turn, my beloved.’ What letter did it turn on, ’Poha?”
“D,” replied Hinpoha, in a solemn whisper.
“D,” repeated the chorus, “what does that stand for?”
“Daniel,” supplied Sahwah promptly.
“His name’s going to be Daniel,” chanted the chorus. “Now try for the last name.”
Again the mystic rite was performed. At “I” the Bible trembled with a premonitory movement. “It’s turning!” whispered the chorus in an awed tone. “No, it isn’t either; it’s still again.” After that one tremor the soothsaying volume remained bafflingly motionless through the recitation of the mysteries which accompanied the letter J. K likewise began uneventfully. But no sooner had Hinpoha uttered the fateful words, “Turn, my beloved,” when with a suddenness that scared them half out of their wits the key turned sharply in the supporting fingers, twisted itself free and fell to the floor with an emphatic bang.