“W” was too much for Medmangi.  “Wire,” said Nyoda.

“X,” said Sahwah, “there is no such thing.  Oh, yes, there is, too; Xylophones, they’re made here.”

Gladys and Migwan met their Waterloo on “Y.”  “Yeast,” said Nyoda.

“Z,” sent Chapa and Nakwisi to the dummy corner and it came back to Sahwah.  “Zerolene,” she said.

“What’s that?” they all cried.

“I don’t know,” she answered, “but I saw it on one of the big oil tanks as we passed.”

Sahwah and Nyoda won the right to take the first paddle in the Keewaydin.  They carried the canoe on their heads, portage fashion, around the dam, and launched it up above, where the confined waters had spread out into a wide pond.  “Oh, what a joy to dip a paddle again!” sighed Sahwah blissfully, sending the Keewaydin flying through the water with long, vigorous strokes.  “I’d love to paddle all the way home.”  She had completely forgotten that there was such a thing as school and lessons in the world.  She was the Daughter of the River, and this was a joyous homecoming.

“Time to go back and let the rest have a turn,” said Nyoda.  Reluctantly Sahwah steered the canoe around and returned to the waiting group.  Mrs. Evans watched with interest as Gladys and Hinpoha pushed out from shore.  Could this be her once frail daughter, who had despised all strenuous sports and hated water above all things, who was swinging her paddle so lustily and steering the Keewaydin so skilfully?  What was this strange Something that the Camp Fire had instilled into her?  She caught her breath with the beauty of it, as the girls glided along between the radiant banks, the two paddles flashing in and out in perfect rhythm.  They were singing a favorite boating song, and their voices floated back on the breeze: 

  “Through the mystic haze of the autumn days
  Like a phantom ghost I glide,
  Where the big moose sees the crimson trees
  Mirrored on the silver tide,
  And the blood red sun when day is done
  Sinks below the hill,
  The night hawk swoops, the lily droops,
  And all the world is still!”

Sahwah lingered on the river after the others had gone in a body to try to climb to the top of the rocky fireplace.  She was all alone in the Keewaydin, and sent it darting around like a water spider on the surface of the stream.  So absorbed was she in the joy of paddling that she did not see a sign on a tree beside the river which warned people in boats to go no further than that point, neither did she realize the significance of the quicker progress which the Keewaydin was making.  When she did realize that she was getting dangerously near the edge of the dam, and attempted to turn back, she discovered to her horror that it was impossible to turn back.  The Keewaydin was being swept helplessly and irresistibly onward.  Recent rains had swollen the stream and the water was pouring over the dam.