Amid a volley of teasing remarks, the two girls swung off in the direction of Blue Wolf’s little shack. The last rays of the setting sun made it still light enough in the woods for them to pick an easy course in and out among the trees. Spying the Indian seated beside one of the two graceful canoes, drawn up on the bank at the water’s edge, Ruth steered a course directly toward him.
“Your supper is ready, Blue Wolf. We came on purpose to tell you,” she announced cheerily.
The Indian straightened up with the suddenness of a jack-in-the-box, then rose to his feet. Ruth thought she caught a fleeting gleam of gratification in his black eyes. “Thank,” he muttered with a jerky little nod. “You very good come tell me.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Ruth briskly assured. “May we look at the canoes? Aren’t they beautiful, graceful things, though?” Stepping over to one of them, she passed an admiring hand along its rough bark side. “You made them both, didn’t you? It’s perfectly wonderful, I think.”
“I teach you an’ you.” The final “you” was for Frances. “You make canoe, too. I show,” offered the guide gravely.
This brought a little squeal of pure delight from the lips of both girls.
“Could we really make one ourselves?” Ruth clasped her hands with joy of the possibility.
“I help you make him,” repeated Blue Wolf positively. “To-morrow find tree. Cut him down. You see.”
“It will be splendid,” beamed Ruth. “Now we must go back to the others. You’d better come, too, while your supper’s still hot.”
Without a word the Indian followed sedately in their wake, as the two turned back to camp. Recalling Sarah’s prediction of a “grand splash,” Ruth smiled to herself. Far from launching her verse at Blue Wolf, Frances had been mute, save for the single exclamation arising from the guide’s offer.