The Campfire Girls on Ellen's Isle Part 2

It was the most amusing situation they had ever faced, and the whole tribe laughed themselves red in the face while each one of the four candidates for the position of leader insisted that it belonged by right to one of the others. After half an hour's arguing the question back and forth they were no nearer a solution, when suddenly Katherine reached out and struck the tom-tom a resounding boom, boom, which was the signal that she had something to say.

"Why don't all four of you be chiefs?" she suggested, when they had turned to her expectantly. "Four chiefs in a tribe ought to be four times as good as one. You each have an equal claim."

"Fine!" cried the Winnebagos.

"Bully!" echoed the Sandwiches.

"Speech from the Chiefs!" cried Katherine, delighted that her suggestion had found such immediate favor. "You first, Mrs. Evans."

"But," protested Mrs. Evans, "it seems to me we four have no better right to be Chiefs than you girls. If you hadn't wanted to come camping there wouldn't have been any tribe at all. It seems to me the Winnebago girls have the best right to be chiefs of any here."

"We haven't any better claim than the Sandwich boys," said Katherine.

"If it hadn't been for them there wouldn't have been any Uncle Teddy or Aunt Clara to help you so you would feel equal to the responsibility of bringing us up here."

"That settles it," said Uncle Teddy. "If we all have an equal right to be Chief of this tribe, by all means let us enjoy our rights and all be Chiefs. There are sixteen of us. We intend to remain up here eight weeks. Dividing up and giving each one a turn we would have a different pair of leaders every week. There are equal numbers of men and women and girls and boys, so the arrangement is just about ideal. Every week we will have a high council meeting on this rock where all questions of moment will be considered. The Chiefs will preside at the meeting.

"They will also blow the rising horn, sit at the head of the table, say grace, serve the food, pat the chokers on the back and see to it that Slim does not eat past the bursting point. The Chiefs will also lead the singing in the pine grove every morning after breakfast. They will settle all disputes according to the best of their ability, and will plan the Princ.i.p.al Diversions for the week. These latter will be announced at the Council Meetings. Needless to say, the Chiefs will do no menial labor during the week of their Chiefhood. Is that a fair proposition all the way around?"

"It surely is!" they all cried together. "Hurray for the tribe of Chiefs!"

A schedule of the order in which they would take their turns was quickly written on a sheet of birchbark with an indelible pencil and tacked to a big pine beside the Council Rock. It was as follows: First week, Uncle Teddy and Aunt Clara; second week, Mr. and Mrs. Evans; third week, Katherine and the Captain; fourth week, Hinpoha and Slim; fifth week, Gladys and the Bottomless Pitt; sixth week, Sahwah and the Monkey; seventh week, Migwan and Peter Jenkins; eighth week, Nakwisi and Dan Porter.

As soon as the Chiefs for that week were established, Uncle Teddy was immediately besieged with questions in regard to the Princ.i.p.al Diversion. "It's a--oh, my gracious!" said Uncle Teddy, catching himself hastily and winking mysteriously at Mr. Evans. "It's a secret!" And not another word would he say.

Soon afterward he and Mr. Evans prepared to take a trip in the launch.

"Where are you going?" casually inquired the Captain, who had followed them down the hill.

"Oh, just over to St. Pierre to get some supplies," replied Uncle Teddy in an offhand manner.

"Want any help?" asked the Captain wistfully. He was just in the mood for a ride across the lake this morning with his two adored friends.

"Not at all, thank you," said Uncle Teddy, hurriedly starting the engine and backing the launch away from the sh.o.r.e. "You look after the camp in our absence." And the launch leapt forward and carried them out of speaking distance.

It was nearly dinner time and the men had not yet returned. The potatoes were done, the corn chowder had been taken from the fire, and the cooks and hungry campers sat on the edge of the high bluff looking toward St.

Pierre to see if the launch were in sight.

"There's something coming now," said the Captain, who was the most far-sighted of the group, "but it doesn't look like a launch; it looks like a sailing vessel. That can't be our men."

"There's a launch just ahead of it," said Sahwah a moment later.

"There is," agreed the Captain, "and, sure enough, it's towing the other thing, the sailing vessel. That is our launch, see the Stars and Stripes floating over the bow and the girls' green flag at the back? Oh, mercy, what are they bringing us?"

"I'm going down on the landing," said Sahwah, unable to restrain herself any longer. She raced down the path, followed closely by the girls and boys and at a more dignified pace by Mrs. Evans and Aunt Clara.

"Look what it is!" cried Gladys to her mother when she arrived on the scene. The launch was just heading in toward the pier. "It's a war canoe!"

"With sails!" echoed Sahwah, nearly falling off the pier in her excitement.

It was, indeed, a war canoe, a beautiful, dark-green body some twenty-five feet long and about three feet at the widest part through the center. The three sails were of the removable kind. Just now they were set and filled out tight with the breeze. The sun glinted on the shining varnish of the cross seats and the paddles lying under them.

There was one great shout of "Oh-h!" from the girls and boys, and then a silence born of ecstasy.

"Here's the man-of-war!" called Mr. Evans, enjoying to the utmost the pleasure caused by the arrival of the big canoe, "now, where's the crew?"

"Here, here!" they all cried, tumbling over each other in their haste to get to the landing and into the boat.

"All aboard, my hearties," cried Uncle Teddy, cutting the canoe loose from the launch and holding it steady against the pier.

"But dinner's ready," protested Aunt Clara. "Can't you wait until afterwards for your ride?"

"Not one minute," her husband solemnly a.s.sured her. "Not one of us will be able to eat a mouthful until we have had a ride on the new hobby horse. Dinners will keep, but new war canoes won't."

"You're as bad as the boys and girls," said Aunt Clara, shaking her finger at him knowingly. "I believe you want to go worse than any of them."

"I surely do," replied Uncle Teddy. "It was all I could do on the way over to keep from climbing over the back of the launch into the canoe and coming home in her."

"I'm going to be bow paddler," cried Sahwah, hastily scrambling into the front seat and getting her paddle ready for action.

"We won't need much in the paddling line with those sails," said Uncle Teddy, "but we can be ready in case we become becalmed."

"'Become becalmed,'" said Migwan mischievously, "doesn't that sound as if you had your mouth full of something sticky?"

Uncle Teddy wrinkled up his nose in a comical grimace and ordered her to take her seat in the canoe without any more impudence.

As most of the seats were wide enough for two to sit on there was plenty of room for all sixteen of them. Mrs. Evans hung back at first, but at Aunt Clara's urging ventured to sit beside her. Uncle Teddy took up the stern paddle and shoved out into the lake; the wind caught the sails, and away went the canoe like a bird. It was wonderful going with the wind, but when they decided it was time to turn around and come home they found that the sails absolutely refused to work backward, so they lowered them and paddled. As the canoe leaped forward under the steady, even strokes, the Winnebagos began to sing:

"Pull long, pull strong, my bonnie brave crew, The winds sweep over the waters blue, Oh, blow they high, or blow they low, It's all the same to Wohelo!

"Yo ho, yo ho, It's all the same to Wohelo!"

They landed reluctantly and ate the long-delayed dinner, discussing all the while what they should name the war canoe.

"Let's call it the _Nyoda_," said Hinpoha. "That would surely please Nyoda. Besides, it's a fine name for a boat."

They agreed unanimously that the war canoe should be named _Nyoda_, and Mr. Evans promised to take it to St. Pierre the next day to have the name painted on her bow. As soon as dinner was over they were out in her again with the sails up, until the ever-stiffening wind made the lake too rough for pleasure. They could hardly land when at last they reached the sh.o.r.e, the canoe plunged so, and Uncle Teddy jumped out and stood in the water up to his waist holding her steady.

"In for a bit of weather, eh?" said Mr. Evans, helping to pull the _Nyoda_ far up on the beach out of harm's way. The wind was whistling around the corner of the bluffs.

"Just a puff of wind," replied Uncle Teddy, "but I would advise you all to batten down the hatches, I mean, tie your tent flaps." As he spoke a white towel came fluttering over the bluff from one of the tents above and went sailing off over the lake. At that they all scattered to make their possessions secure.

All through the afternoon the storm raged. There was no rain, just a steady northwest wind increasing in violence until it had reached the proportions of a gale. High as the cliffs were on three sides of the island, the spray was dashing over the top. When supper time came Aunt Clara called to Uncle Teddy: "Where are the eggs and bread and milk you brought from St. Pierre this morning?"

Uncle Teddy and Mr. Evans both jumped from the comfortable rock on the sheltered beach where they had been sitting watching the storm and blushed guiltily. "We never brought them!" they both exclaimed together.

"We were so completely taken up with the business of getting the war canoe from the steamer dock that we forgot all about the supplies."

"Well, we'll just have to do without them, but we can't have the supper we planned," returned Aunt Clara. "A great Chief you are! Can only think of one thing at a time! I could have brought in a dozen war canoes and never forgotten the affairs of my household."