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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Come," she said, in her usual calm, brisk tones, "I have to make haste. I must go on that early morning train. It goes through here about four. Help me pack, girls." Recalled to themselves by the quietness of Nyoda's manner the Winnebagos set about helping in their usual efficient way.
Before their astonished eyes the camp lay like an enchanted city, changed in their absence from a place of racket and bustle and resounding laughter, to a silent ghost of its former lively self. "What's happened?" exclaimed the Winnebagos to each other. "Is everybody gone on a trip?"
The news of the invitation to spend a week-end in the country was received with a shout by the Winnebagos. Their only regret was that Sahwah would be unable to go. "Never mind, Sahwah," comforted Nyoda, "Mrs. Bates wants us to come out again when the water is warm enough to go in bathing and by that time your hip will be all right."
And when Migwan's back was turned she winked solemnly at Nyoda. By a curious coincidence that seat was directly behind those occupied by the other Winnebagos! The night of the last Camp Fire Meeting Gladys and Nyoda might have been seen in close consultation. "The first pleasant Saturday," said Nyoda. "Remember, it's my treat," said Gladys.
She could never be a Torch Bearer now; she had disgraced the Winnebagos, they would never have anything more to do with her. Agony, her beloved twin, had turned against her; there was nothing left in the world for her now. With quivering lips and smarting eyes she slipped out of the tent and lost herself in the crowd outside. The rest did not notice her going; they were too busy lamenting.
They were also usually at odds with the southern Indians, but among themselves they were frequently united in time of war into a sort of lax league, and were collectively designated by the Americans as the northwestern Indians. All the tribes belonged to the great Algonquin family, with two exceptions, the Winnebagos and the Wyandots.
Deerfoot shook his head, as though the question was more than he could answer. "Deerfoot has met Shawanoes and Sacs and Wyandottes and Pawnees far away from their villages and hunting grounds, besides the strange Indians who come much further from the setting sun. The red men travel whither they will. Why the Winnebagos passed near the home of my brothers only they can tell."
"The other one was a German prince," said Veronica, and then laughingly added, "I don't suppose you care to hear about him?" "Oh, come on, tell us about him," coaxed the Winnebagos. "He was Prince Karl Augustus of Hohenburg," replied Veronica. "He was traveling in Hungary for his health, or rather, for his wife's, and he came to one of the Countess's musicales.
"In bed!" exclaimed the Winnebagos in astonishment. "At half past six in the evening? What for?" "It's Topsy-Turvy Day," replied Miss Judy, laughing at their amazed faces. "We're turning everything upside down tonight. Hurry and get into bed. The rising bugle will blow in half an hour."
"Has not his people stolen the hunting grounds of the red man?" demanded the Winnebago, who, seeing that some grace was to be allowed him, burst into the argument that multitudes of his people have used before and since. Before he could proceed further, Deerfoot asked: "Are these the hunting grounds of the Winnebagos?"
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