CHRONICLES IN COLOR.

“Speaking of diaries,” said Gladys Evans, “what do you think of this for one?” She spread out a bead band, about an inch and a half wide and a yard or more long, in which she had worked out in colors the main events of her summer’s camping trip with the Winnebago Camp Fire Girls.  The girls dropped their hand work and crowded around Gladys to get a better look at the band, which told so cleverly the story of their wonderful summer.

“Oh, look,” cried “Sahwah” Brewster, excitedly pointing out the figures, “there’s Shadow River and the canoe floating upside down, and Ed Roberts serenading Gladys—­only it turned out to be Sherry serenading Nyoda—­and the Hike, and the Fourth of July pageant, and everything!” The Winnebagos were loud in their expressions of admiration, and the “Don’t you remembers” fell thick and fast as they recalled the events depicted in the bead band.

It was a crisp evening in October and the Winnebagos were having their Work Meeting at the Bradford house, as the guests of Dorothy Bradford, or “Hinpoha,” as she was known in the Winnebago circle.  Here were all the girls we left standing on the boat dock at Loon Lake, looking just the same as when we saw them last, a trifle less sunburned perhaps, but just as full of life and spirit.  Scissors, needles and crochet hooks flew fast as the seven girls and their Guardian sat around the cheerful wood fire in the library.  Sahwah was tatting, Gladys and Migwan were embroidering, and Miss Kent, familiarly known as “Nyoda,” the Guardian of the Winnebago group, was “mending her hole-proof hose,” as she laughingly expressed it.  The three more quiet girls in the circle, Nakwisi the Star Maiden, Chapa the Chipmunk, and Medmangi the Medicine Man Girl, were working out their various symbols in crochet patterns.  Hinpoha was down on the floor popping corn over the glowing logs and turning over a row of apples which had been set before the fireplace to warm.  The firelight streaming over her red curls made them shine like burning embers, until it seemed as if some of the fire had escaped from the grate and was playing around her face.  Every few minutes she reached out her hand and dealt a gentle slap on the nose of “Mr. Bob,” a young cocker spaniel attached to the house of Bradford, who persistently tried to take the apples in his mouth.  Nyoda finally came to the rescue and diverted his attention by giving him her darning egg to chew.  The room was filled with the light-hearted chatter of the girls.  Sahwah was relating with many giggles, how she had gotten into a scrape at school.