“It was mine,” said Winona. “But Mrs. Bryan remembered an Indian name for it—Karonya. We’re Camp Karonya—isn’t that pretty? And then Marie remembered the Indian name for South-Wind, one of them, Shawondassee, and took it. But the rest couldn’t think of Indian names, so we waited to hunt some.”
“Do the names have to be Indian?”
“Oh, no,” Winnie answered sleepily, “but it’s better.”
“Come!” said her mother, setting Florence, who was fast asleep, on her feet. “We’d all better go to bed, or we’ll be too sleepy to go to church to-morrow.”
“And the sooner I go to sleep the sooner next Saturday will come, as you used to say when I was a little girl,” added Winona. “Oh, I can scarcely wait to find out what a bacon-bat really is on its native heath—or anywhere, for that matter.”
“Didn’t they tell you what it was?”
“No—Marie is planning it, and she wouldn’t say, except that it would be heaps of fun, and I was to bring a dozen rolls and some salt and a jack-knife. I’ll have to borrow Tom’s. Good-night, mother dear.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Have you got everything, Winnie?” asked Helen anxiously, as they met half-way between Winnie’s gate and Helen’s, about ten o’clock on Saturday morning.
“I think so,” answered Helen a little uncertainly. “Marie told me to bring a pound of bacon—that’s all. What are you bringing?”