“I am,” said Sahwah, mischievously.

“Then you can undoubtedly tell me what Caesar said on the Fourth of July, 45 B.C.” said Nyoda.

“I don’t seem to recollect,” said Sahwah.

“Then read for yourself,” said Nyoda, scribbling a few words on a leaf from her notebook and handing it to her.

“What’s this?” said Sahwah, spelling out the words.  On the paper was written,

Quis crudis enim rufus, albus et expiravit.

Sahwah tried to translate. “Quis, who; crudis, raw; enim—­what’s enim?”

“For,” answered Migwan.

“And expiravit” said Sahwah, “what’s that from?”

“Expiro” answered Migwan, “expirare, expiravi, expiratus.  It means ‘blow,’ ‘Expiravit’ is ‘have blown.’”

“Rufus is ‘red,’” continued Sahwah, “and is albus ’white’?” Migwan nodded, and Sahwah went back to the beginning and began to read:  “Who raw for red white and have blown.”

Nyoda shouted.  “That last word is blew, not have blown” she said.

“I have it!” cried Migwan, jumping up.  “It’s ’Who raw for the red, white and blew.’  ‘Hoorah for the red, white and blue!’”

“Such wit!” said Sahwah, laughing with the rest.

“Now, I’ll make a motto for Sahwah,” said Migwan, seizing the pencil.  Migwan was a Senior and took French, and having a sudden inspiration, she wrote, “Pas de lieu Rhone que nous!” The girls could not translate it and Nyoda puzzled over it for a long time.

“I don’t seem to be able to make anything out of it,” she said at length.

“Don’t try to translate it,” said Migwan, “just read it out loud,” Nyoda complied and Sahwah caught it immediately.

“It’s ’Paddle your own canoe!” she cried.

Thus, laughing and joking, they followed the road back to the dam and embarked in the launch with all speed, for the sun was already sinking beneath the treetops and they had a two-hour ride ahead of them.  Mrs. Evans took Hinpoha back in the machine and delivered her to her aunt safe and sound at eight o’clock, with many expressions of pleasure at the fun she had had with the Camp Fire Girls, which were intended as seeds to be planted in Aunt Phoebe’s mind.

“I think your mother’s a perfect dear,” said Sahwah to Gladys on the trip home.  “I used to be frightened to death of her, because she always looked so straight-laced and proper, but she isn’t like that at all.  She’s a regular Camp Fire Girl!”

CHAPTER V.

A COASTING PARTY.