The experiences of a canoe-trip are sometimes more interesting than those of any other kind of outdoor excursions, for there are not only the alternate pleasures of travelling by water and of camping on land, but there is the added joy of awaking each morning to find a new world. When the girls had pulled their canoes upon the bank the preceding afternoon, and had busied themselves with the unpacking and the erection of the tents, they had hardly realized how beautiful the spot of their encampment was. Now as they beheld it from their tents in the sunrise, they were deeply impressed. Marjorie was so eager to make the picture a permanent one that she got out her camera before she was fully dressed, and took a snap-shot.

“Marj, you’re so energetic!” yawned Doris, who was still buried beneath her blankets. “Probably that’s why you get all the prizes that are going. And I do believe you’ll get this one, too,” she added.

“Not if Ruth Henry knows it!” answered Marjorie.

“Do we swim before breakfast?” asked Doris,43 changing the subject hastily. “Or do we get dressed right away in the rest of our clothing?”

“I don’t think there are any set rules,” replied her companion; “you can do as you please, I guess. But I thought I’d just wash and run down and see if I might help Frieda.”

Already the girls in the other tents were stirring, although there had not been any bugle call to awaken them. When Lily Andrews opened her eyes and casually looked at her companion’s bed, she received a shock to see Ruth Henry sitting on the edge, lacing up her shoes. She and Marjorie had roomed together for so long, it seemed strange to have another girl as partner.

“Hello, Lil!” greeted Ruth. “Have a nice sleep?”

“Yes, but wasn’t it cold, though? I think it was worse than at camp.”

“I suppose that is because we are so close to the water,” remarked Ruth.

Lily reached for her mirror and brush and comb; then proceeded to arrange her hair, sitting up where she was, in bed. Ruth watched her admiringly; Lily was not pretty, but there was something very attractive about her. And Ruth could never forget the fact that she was the sophomore president, or rather, had been, for the year was over now; but the holder of that much desired office would always seem great in her eyes.

44 “Aren’t you going to wear sneaks?” asked Lily, interrupting the other girl’s reverie.

“No, I thought I’d put my high shoes on today.”

She lifted the flap and peered out of the tent. Not far away she beheld a bright fire, and Frieda Hammer bending over it, busily cooking.

“I smell breakfast!” she said. “The cook’s on the job!”

“Poor Frieda!” sighed Lily; “I wouldn’t want to have to get up so early as she has to.”

“She gets paid for it!” replied Ruth, who never believed in wasting sympathy where she did not consider it was warranted.

“Say, Lil,” she continued, as she proceeded to manicure her nails while waiting for the other, “have you ever been to Silvertown?”

“Never; papa and mamma often talked of going, but it’s so hard to get a house, and you know there are no hotels.”

“There aren’t?” Then, “Who do you suppose could possibly be providing for this trip? He certainly must be a swell.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” replied Lily; “though I confess I’ve thought and thought. Papa knows some awfully rich men in New York; I’ve wondered whether any of them could have become interested in our troop—and the general idea of Girl Scouts. It’s a perfect thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes, because he didn’t just give it to us; we45 felt we earned it by passing that Pioneer test. And, believe me, we did!”

“And wasn’t it just the wisest thing to select that one! Look how much we’ve used the knowledge already—putting up tents, and chopping logs, and digging holes!”

The girls quickly put the finishing touches to their toilets, and hurried down to the stream to wash. In a few minutes they joined the other eight campers, all seated around Frieda’s fire.

“What have you got for us this morning, Frieda?” asked Marjorie, pleasantly.

“Prunes—first!” she announced.

“Ugh!” cried Ruth; “I hate them!”

“Ruth!” reproved Miss Phillips; “remember we all agreed to be pleased with whatever we have—which meant whatever was easiest to carry!”

“Oh, I beg your most humble pardon, Cook!” apologized the girl, with mock solemnity. Then she proceeded to eat one prune.

“Say, that reminds me,” remarked Ethel, “I hope our cook doesn’t turn out like the cook on board the ship in Treasure Island!”

“What was she like?” asked Frieda.

“It wasn’t she, Frieda!” laughed Marjorie, who had always read all of her brother’s books, among which Treasure Island was a favorite. “It was a man—and a regular villain, too! He was a pirate.”

Frieda Hammer, still sensitive over the wrong she46 had committed the preceding fall by running away in Marjorie’s canoe, blushed guiltily. Miss Phillips, noticing her embarrassment, immediately hastened to change the subject.

“We must make a quick pack, girls, and get away as soon as possible. I want to reach Silvertown by Saturday night of next week you know, if we can. That will give us three good days’ rest before the water meet. And I think we shall need it.”

“Miss Phillips,” inquired Ruth, “is this meet just for scouts, or will there be any young people from Silvertown competing?”

“Only Pansy troop members,” she replied, “for such are your benefactor’s wishes. But I think from the way he spoke, he will send the winner of our meet back in August for their annual affair.”

The whole plan gave Ruth a thrill of pleasure, but she realized it was not an unmitigated joy. Marjorie was still so much more skillful than any of the other scouts, that Ruth despaired of winning; and, to her chagrin, Frieda Hammer seemed to rank second. Moreover she knew that the latter would of course be allowed to compete, although the idea of that crude country girl among the social celebrities of Silvertown seemed to Ruth utterly preposterous.

“Captain,” she asked, “won’t you please tell us all about the meet—I mean the events in it—so that we’ll have a chance to prepare for it?”

47 “Certainly, Ruth,” replied Miss Phillips; “but I can’t now, because I don’t want to take the time. But if you will remind me this evening, after we are settled and our work is done, I’ll be glad to go into details.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of two covered pans which Frieda drew from the vicinity of the fire. One was piled high with hot cakes, while the other held the fish which they had caught, and which were now fried to a tempting brown.

“This surely makes up for the prunes, Frieda!” cried Ruth enthusiastically. “You certainly are a dandy!”

The girls ate hungrily, until every hot cake had disappeared and there was nothing left of the fish but bones.

“I declare I can’t budge an inch, after all that food!” announced Doris, making a great effort to stand up.

The burying of refuse, taking down of tents, and packing, was accomplished in a comparatively short time. Miss Phillips realized that the girls were becoming more expert.

Ruth, however, was only conscious of the fact that her arms ached and her shoulders were stiff from the previous day’s exercise. Was this, she wondered, because she paddled awkwardly? Neither Marjorie nor Frieda seemed in the least stiff. The48 idea worried her. It meant not only that she would not be able to go fast that day, but she feared that a continued strain might seriously incapacitate her for the meet.

But Ruth Henry had no intention of admitting her disability. It was her nature rather to gain her desire by cunning. Accordingly, she decided that this would be an opportunity for a delay.

Fortunately for her, Miss Phillips bade her canoe take the lead.

“Keep your maps handy,” she said: “and try not to make any mistakes.”

So she paddled quietly ahead for some distance, as long as the stream continued narrow. When she finally saw signs of its widening, and thus affording an opportunity for her to lose the course, she began what she hoped would prove an intensely interesting conversation.

“Now that it’s quiet enough for everybody to hear you, Captain Phillips,” she called, “won’t you please tell us all about Silvertown?”

The girls in the other canoes paddled closer, to listen.

“Well, I’ve never been there myself,” answered the Captain; “so I can’t tell you very much about it—only what I’ve heard and read.

“As far as I know it is almost an island—the river on one side, and the lake on the other. It is very beautiful, I understand—lovely tall trees, and49 shady walks; and the houses, which are all occupied only during the summer, are absolutely gorgeous. The whole place contains only about a thousand people—including the servants. And, since there is no hotel of any description, practically everybody knows everybody else.”

“And do you suppose they know about us?” pursued Ruth.

“They must, by this time, for our friend secured this house almost six months in advance. He was very lucky about it, too. It seems that it belongs to a wealthy New York man, whom he knows in a business way, and this man takes a yachting cruise each summer during July; so our friend was able to lease it.”

“Have you any idea how much it cost?” was Ruth’s next question.

“Not a cent under two thousand dollars,” replied Miss Phillips; “and maybe more. It’s a wonderful house—and there is such a demand for places at Silvertown that an owner can get almost anything he asked. But I understand that they won’t lease to undesirable people.”

“That’s a big compliment to the Girl Scouts, isn’t it?” remarked Ruth, swelling with pride.

“Yes, and to the man who is paying for our party!” put in Marjorie. Then, seriously. “Oh, girls, do you suppose we really are good enough to deserve all this?”

50 “I’m sure I’m not,” said Frieda Hammer, quietly, gazing downward into the water.

“And now tell us about the house,” suggested Ruth.

By this time the stream had greatly widened, until it appeared almost the proportions of a lake. The water was quiet; water-lilies grew here and there on the surface. The high sharp banks with their overhanging trees had vanished; the sun poured brightly down upon their heads.

“We could almost sail here, if we had brought sails,” remarked Miss Phillips, before she answered Ruth’s question. “Sailing in a canoe is lots of fun.”

“Oh, I’d love it!” cried Marjorie. “Tell us how you do it!”

“No, Captain, please answer Ruth’s question first,” put in Florence Evans. She, too, was anxious to hear all about the summer resort.

“I really can’t tell you much,” replied Miss Phillips. “Except that the house is huge, and has so many rooms that you can hardly count them. There are lots of swings, too, and a tennis court; and we are to have two machines at our disposal. We’ll all have to wait and see it for ourselves, I guess,” she concluded, “for I could never do it justice!”

“But, Captain,” objected Ethel; “it will take all our time to take care of a house like that. We’ll never be able to do anything else.”

But again Miss Phillips smiled enigmatically.

51 “There will be servants to take care of that,” she explained; “the same servants who run the place during August.”

All this time Ruth had been studiously avoiding the stream which she knew to be the right one. Instead, she followed a little tributary which was becoming narrower and shallower.

“Are you sure we are right, Ruth?” questioned Miss Phillips, reaching into her pocket for her map. “This stream looks as if it were going to come to an end.”

Ruth stopped paddling and balanced her paddle across her lap while she too consulted her map.

“If I did miss the main stream,” she began, “I can’t imagine where——”

But her remark was interrupted by a sharp scream from Alice Endicott.

“I’m stuck in the mud!” she shrieked. “I can’t budge the canoe an inch!”

By this time all of the canoes were in extremely shallow water, no longer clear like the swifter stream which they had been following, but so clouded by mud that the exact depth was undeterminable. Tall grass grew here and there—and farther along the water gave almost the appearance of a field. The girls needed no reference to the map now to establish the fact that they were lost. Ruth apologized profusely, lightly blaming Miss Phillips for absorbing her interest in what she was saying.

52 In the meantime, Marjorie had turned her canoe around so that Doris could reach out her hand and take hold of the stern of Alice’s canoe. It was only a few seconds before they too were turned about, and all were paddling in the direction from which they had just come.

“We’ll go back as quickly as we can,” said Miss Phillips, glancing at her watch. It was already three o’clock.

Ruth paddled swiftly now, realizing that her shoulders were no longer stiff, but in better condition to take up the exercise.

“Here’s the place!” cried Miss Phillips, after about an hour of paddling. “But just think how much time we’ve lost!”

“But we are having a good time!” put in Ruth. It was evident that she was not in the least remorseful over her mistake.

“But we’ll have to camp here,” answered the captain, sharply. “And if you knew of what is awaiting you at Silvertown, you wouldn’t want to lose a single minute more than necessary.”

“I believe someone especially nice is waiting for you,” remarked Ruth, significantly.

And the captain was too embarrassed at the inference to reprove Ruth for her undue familiarity.