"I not only have no claim upon the silver badge of courage, I had no right to the prize I received at the riding contest. I won unfairly. Often I have puzzled over no one's seeing that I pulled my horse directly in front of my stepmother in order to force her to lose the race. She has always been aware of the fact and at first I feared she might speak of it. Afterwards I began depending upon the knowledge that she would never speak of it."
"Jeanette dear, do you think this is necessary?" she could hear her stepmother's voice pleading.
Jeanette's chin looked squarer, her lips became firmer.
"Yes, I do think it is necessary. I don't want to create a scene, but I do wish everybody to know the truth. Since I decided after the fire to confess to father I have wanted all our friends to know. I wrote a letter to the club and sent back the Swastika pin, but because of their affection for father I believe no one has spoken of what I did. I can no longer endure sailing under false colors. It is curious I have changed, at first I dreaded anyone's hearing. A great experience does change one sometimes, don't you think?
"So you see I not only have no right to the silver arrow, I am afraid I have even lost the right to continue a member of the club. But I hope you will learn to forgive me and permit me to do this."
The girl's voice softened and her lips trembled.
"Some day I may be able to prove I still know how to play fair."
"You have proved this already, Jeanette!" Cecil asserted. "I think your confession braver than helping to rescue the people you care for. I vote that you be awarded the silver arrow of courage."
Again Jeanette shook her head. This time she laughed with a note of relief, as if a burden had been lifted.
"Sorry, Cecil, but the silver arrow is no longer the club's to bestow. The other day father and I rode down into the ravine and sat there by the edge of the enchanted lake for a long talk together. Again we saw the same Indian boy whom Via and I had caught a glimpse of a short time ago. As father was with me this time he did not run away, but continued searching for something. By and by father grew interested and went over and asked what he had lost. At first the boy appeared frightened and declined to speak, afterwards he broke down and poured forth this story. Suppose we sit down in a circle on the ground while I tell it you. I have been awaiting this opportunity."