As the launch putt-putt-putt-ed steadily up the river the water gradually became less black, and the factories along the shore gave way to open stretches of country.  By noon they reached the dam and went ashore to look for a place to build a fire.  They were in a deep gorge, its steep sides thickly covered with flaming maples and oaks, and brilliant sumachs, stretching on either side as far as they could reach.  “It’s too gorgeous to seem real,” said Nyoda, shading her eyes and looking down the valley; “where does Mother Nature keep her pot of ‘Diamond Dyes’ in the summer time?”

High up along the top of one of the cliffs a narrow road wound along, and as Nyoda stood looking into the distance she saw an automobile coming along this road.  When it was directly above her it stopped and two people got out, a woman and a girl.  The sunlight fell on a mass of red curls on the girl’s head.  “Hinpoha!” exclaimed Nyoda in amazement.  From above came floating down a far-echoing yodel—­the familiar Winnebago call.  The girls all looked up in surprise to see Hinpoha scrambling down the face of the cliff, and aiding Mrs. Evans to descend.

“Why, mother!” called Gladys, running up to meet her.

The surprise at the meeting was mutual.  Mrs. Evans, spinning along the country roads, had no idea she was hard on the trail of her daughter and the other Winnebagos until she came suddenly upon them after they had gotten out of the launch.  “Can’t you stay and spend the day with us, now that you’re here?” they pleaded.

Hinpoha’s longing soul looked out of her eyes, but she answered, “I’m afraid not.  Aunt Phoebe wouldn’t approve.”

“Did she say you couldn’t?” asked Sahwah.

“No,” said Hinpoha, “for I never even asked her if I might go along with you in the launch.  I knew it would be no use.”

“Oh, please stay,” tempted some of the girls; “your aunt’ll never know the difference.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” said Hinpoha in a tone of horror.  A little approving smile crept around the corners of Nyoda’s eyes as she heard Hinpoha so resolutely bidding Satan get behind her.  Mrs. Evans was genuinely sorry they had encountered the girls, because it made it so much harder for Hinpoha.

“I wonder,” she said musingly, “if I drove on to a house in the road and telephoned your aunt that she would let you stay?”

“You might try,” said Hinpoha doubtfully.  Mrs. Evans thought it was worth trying.  She found a house with a telephone and got Aunt Phoebe on the wire.  With the utmost tact she explained how they had met the girls accidently, and that she had taken a notion that she would like to spend the day with them, but of course she could not do so unless Hinpoha would be allowed to stay with her, as she had charge of her for the day.  What was Aunt Phoebe to do?  She was not equal to telling the admired Mrs. Evans to forego her pleasure because of Hinpoha, and gave a grudging consent to her keeping her niece with her on the condition that she would bring her home in the machine and not let her come back in the launch with the Winnebagos.  Jubilant, they returned to the girls in the gorge and told the good news.