The Camp Fire Girls at Onoway House Part 10

"I'm getting to be such an expert peeler," said Hinpoha, "that I automatically reach out in my sleep and start to peel Migwan."

Nyoda made up a gay little song about the peeling. To the tune of "Comrades, comrades, ever since we were boys," she sang, "Peeling, peeling, ever since 6 A.M."

Several places had asked for homemade ketchup and Migwan prepared to supply the demand. Never did a prize housekeeper, making ketchup for a county fair, take such pains as Migwan did with hers. She took care to use only the best spices and the best vinegar; she put in a few peach leaves from the tree to give it a finer flavor; she stood beside the big iron preserving kettle and stirred the mixture all the while it was boiling to be sure that it would not settle and burn. Everyone in the house had to taste it to be sure it found favor with a number of critical palates. "Wouldn't you like to put a few bay leaves into it?"

asked her mother. "There are some in the gla.s.s jar in the pantry. They are all crumbled and broken up fine, but they are still good." Migwan put a spoonful of the broken leaves into the ketchup; then she put another.

"Oh, I never was so tired," she sighed, when at last it had boiled long enough and she shoved it back.

"Let's all go out on the river," proposed Nyoda, "and forget our toil for awhile." Sahwah was the last out of the kitchen, having stopped to drink a gla.s.s of water, and while she was drinking her eye roved over the table and caught sight of half a dozen cloves that had spilled out of a box. Gathering them up in her hand she dropped them into the ketchup. Just then Migwan came back for something and the two went out together.

"And now for the bottling," said Migwan, when the supper dishes were put away, and she set several dozen s.h.i.+ning gla.s.s bottles on the table.

After she had been dipping up the ketchup for awhile she paused in her work to sit down for a few moments and count up her expected profits.

"Let's see," she said, "forty bottles at fifteen cents a bottle is six dollars. That isn't so bad for one day's work. But I hope I don't have many days of such work," she added. "My back is about broken with stirring." About thirty of the bottles were filled and sealed when she took this little breathing spell.

"Let me have a taste," said Hinpoha, eyeing the brown mixture longingly.

"Help yourself," said Migwan. Hinpoha took a spoonful. Her face drew up into the most frightful puckers. Running to the sink she took a hasty drink of water. "What's the matter?" said Migwan, viewing her in alarm.

"Did you choke on it?"

"Taste it!" cried Hinpoha. "It's as bitter as gall."

Migwan took a taste of the ketchup and looked fit to drop. "Whatever is the matter with it?" she gasped. One after another the girls tasted it and voiced their mystification. "It couldn't have spoiled in that short time," said Migwan.

Then she suddenly remembered having seen Sahwah drop something into the kettle as it stood on the back of the stove. Could it be possible that Sahwah was seeking revenge for having been made fun of? "Sahwah," she gasped, unbelievingly, "did you put anything into the ketchup that made it bitter?"

"I did not," said Sahwah, the indignant color flaming into her face. She had already forgotten the incident of the cloves. She saw Nyoda and the other girls look at her in surprise at Migwan's words. Her temper rose to the boiling point. "I know what you're thinking," she said, fiercely.

"You think I did something to the ketchup to get even with Migwan, but I didn't, so there. I don't know any more about it than you do."

"I take it all back," said Migwan, alarmed at the tempest she had set astir, and bursting into tears buried her head on her arms on the kitchen table. All that work gone for nothing!

Sahwah ran from the room in a fearful pa.s.sion. Nyoda tried to comfort Migwan. "It's a lucky thing we found it before the stuff was sold," she said, "or your trade would have been ruined." She and the other girls threw the ketchup out and washed the bottles.

"Whatever could have happened to it?" said Gladys, wonderingly.

Migwan lifted her face. "I want to tell you something, Nyoda," she said.

"I suppose you wonder why I asked Sahwah if she had put anything in.

Well, when I went back into the kitchen after my hat when we were going out on the river, Sahwah was there, and she was dropping something into the kettle."

"You don't mean it?" said Nyoda, incredulously. Nyoda understood Sahwah's blind impulses of pa.s.sion, and she could not help noticing for the last few days that Sahwah was still nursing her wrath at Migwan for laughing at her, and she wondered if she could have lost control of herself for an instant and spoiled the ketchup.

Meanwhile Sahwah, up-stairs, had cooled down almost as rapidly as she had flared up, and began to think that she had been a little hasty in her outburst. She, therefore, descended the back stairs with the idea of making peace with the family and helping to wash the bottles. But halfway down the stairs she happened to hear Migwan's remark and Nyoda's answer, and the long silence which followed it. Immediately her fury mounted again to think that they suspected her of doing such an underhand trick. "They don't trust me!" she cried, over and over again to herself. "They don't believe what I said; they think I did it and told a lie about it." All night she tossed and nursed her sense of injury and by morning her mind was made up. She would leave this place where everyone was against her, and where even Nyoda mistrusted her.

That was the most unkind cut of all.

When she did not appear at the breakfast table the rest began to wonder.

Betty reported that Sahwah had not been in bed when she woke up, which was late, and she thought she had risen and dressed and gone down-stairs without disturbing her. There was no sign of her in the garden or on the river. Both the rowboat and the raft were at the landing-place. There was an uncomfortable restraint at the breakfast table. Each one was thinking of something and did not want the others to see it. That thing was that Sahwah had a guilty conscience and was afraid to face the girls. Migwan's eyes filled with tears when she thought how her dear friend had injured her. A blow delivered by the hand of a friend is so much worse than one from an enemy. The table was always set the night before and the plates turned down.

"What's this sticking out under Sahwah's plate?" asked Gladys. It was a note which she opened and read and then sat down heavily in her chair.

The rest crowded around to see. This was what they read: "As long as you don't trust me and think I do underhand things you will probably be glad to get rid of me altogether. Don't look for me, for I will never come back. You may give my place in the Winnebagos to someone else." It was signed "Sarah Ann Brewster," and not the familiar "Sahwah."

"Sahwah's run away!" gasped Migwan in distress, and the girls all ran up to her room. Her clothes were gone from their hooks and her suit-case was gone from under the bed. The girls faced each other in consternation.

"Do you think she had anything to do with the ketchup, after all?" asked Gladys, thoughtfully. "It was so unlike her to do anything of that kind."

"Then why did she run away?" asked Migwan, perplexed.

The morning pa.s.sed miserably. They missed Sahwah at every turn. Several times the girls forgot themselves and sang out "O Sahwah!" Nyoda did not doubt for a moment that Sahwah had gone to her own home, but she thought it best not to go after her immediately. Sahwah's hot temper must cool before she would come to herself. Nyoda was puzzled at her conduct. If she had nothing to be ashamed of why had she run away? That was the question which kept coming up in her mind. Nothing went right in the house or the garden that day. Everyone was out of sorts. Migwan absent-mindedly pulled up a whole row of choice plants instead of weeds; Gladys ran the automobile into a tree and bent up the fender; Hinpoha slammed the door on her finger nail; Nyoda burnt her hand. Ophelia was just dressed for the afternoon in a clean, starched white dress when she fell into the river and had to be dressed over again from head to foot.

The whole household was too cross for words. The departure of Sahwah was the first rupture that had ever occurred in the closely linked ranks of the Winnebagos and they were all broken up over it.

When Mrs. Gardiner was cooking beef for supper she told Migwan to get her some bay leaf to flavor it with. Migwan brought out the gla.s.s jar of crushed leaves. "That's not the bay leaf," said her mother, and went to look for it herself. "Here it is," she said, bringing another gla.s.s jar down from a higher shelf.

"Then what's this?" asked Migwan, indicating the first jar.

"I haven't the slightest idea," said Mrs. Gardiner. "It was in the pantry when we came."

"But this was what I put into the ketchup," said Migwan. Hastily uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the top she shook out some of the contents and tasted them.

Her mouth contracted into a fearful pucker. Never in her life had she tasted anything so bitter.

"I did it myself," she said, in a dazed tone. "I spoiled the ketchup myself." At her shout the girls came together in the kitchen to hear the story of the mistaken ingredient.

"What can that be?" they all asked. n.o.body knew. It was some dried herb that had been left by the former mistress of the house, and a powerful one. The girls looked at each other blankly.

"And I accused Sahwah of doing it," said Migwan, remorsefully. "No wonder she flared up and left us, I don't blame her a bit. I wouldn't thank anyone for accusing me wrongfully of anything like that."

"We'll have to go after her this very evening," said Gladys, "and bring her back."

"If she'll come," said Hinpoha, knowing Sahwah's proud spirit.

"Oh, I'm quite willing to grovel in the dust at her feet," said Migwan.

Gladys drove them all into town with her and they sped to the Brewster house. It was all dark and silent. Sahwah was evidently not there. They tried the neighbors. They all denied that she had been near the house.

They finally came to this conclusion themselves, for in the light of the street lamp just in front of the house they could see that the porch was covered with a month's acc.u.mulation of yellow dust which bore no footmarks but their own.

Here was a new problem. They had come expecting to offer profuse apologies to Sahwah and carry her back with them to Onoway House rejoicing, and it was a shock to find her gone. The thought of letting her go on believing that they mistrusted her was intolerable, but how were they going to clear matters up? Sahwah had no relatives in town, and, of course, they did not know all her friends, so it would be hard to find her. That is, if she had ever reached town at all. Something might have happened to her on the way-Nyoda and Gladys sought each other's eyes and each thought of what had happened to them on the way to Bates Villa.

With heavy hearts they rode back to Onoway House. The days went by cheerlessly. A week pa.s.sed since Sahwah had run away, but no word came from her. Nyoda interviewed the conductors on the interurban car line to find out if Sahwah had taken the car into the city. No one remembered a girl of that description on the day mentioned. Sahwah had only one hat-a conspicuous red one-and she would not fail to attract attention.

Thoroughly alarmed, Nyoda decided on a course of action. She called up the various newspapers in town and asked them to print a notice to the effect that Sahwah had disappeared. If Sahwah were in town she would see it and knowing that they were worried about her would let them know where she was. The notice came out in the papers, and a day or two pa.s.sed, but there was no word from Sahwah. Nyoda and Gladys made a hurried trip to town to put the police on the track. Just before they got to the city limits they had a blowout and were delayed some time before they could go on. As they waited in the road another machine came along and the driver stopped and offered a.s.sistance. Nyoda recognized a friend of hers in the machine, a Miss Barnes, teacher in a local gymnasium.

"h.e.l.lo, Miss Kent," she called, cheerfully, "I haven't seen you for an age. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Where have you been keeping yourself?" returned Nyoda.

"I, Oh, I'm working this summer," replied Miss Barnes. "I'm just in town on business. I'm helping to conduct a girls' summer camp on the lake sh.o.r.e. I thought possibly you would bring your Camp Fire group out there this summer. One of your girls is out there now."

"Which one?" asked Nyoda, thinking of Chapa and Nakwisi, whom she had heard talking about going.

"One by the name of Brewster," said Miss Barnes, "a regular mermaid in the water. She has the girls out there standing open-mouthed at her swimming and diving. Why, what's the matter?" she asked, as Nyoda gave a sigh of relief that seemed to come from her boots.

"Nothing," replied Nyoda, "only we've been scouring the town for that very girl."