Part 12 (1/2)

She kept her eyes on Sahwah, watching her rather slow progress through the waves, and did not see a party of people who were coming up the path from the road until they were right beside her. Her attention was attracted by a cry from Migwan. She turned and saw a man and woman with a little boy about three years old.

”Why, that's _my_ little boy!” said Migwan. ”The one I saw in the woods that morning.”

”Then you are the young lady we are looking for,” said the man, coming forward. ”We have you to thank that we have our boy with us to-day. It was you who put us on the track of the men who had kidnapped him.”

”He _was_ kidnapped, then,” said Migwan.

”Yes,” answered the boy's father, ”he was taken from our camp by those two men whom you saw. Thanks to your picture of them we put the police on their trail and caught them in Portland. We are just coming home with him now and wanted to see you. This is Mrs. Bartlett, my wife, and our son Raymond, whom you have already seen.”

”Come right up and sit down,” said Nyoda cordially, ”and tell us all about it. We have been curious to know whether the little boy was ever found or not.”

They told how the little boy was missed from their camp that Thursday night, and of their frantic search along the sh.o.r.e, thinking he had fallen into the lake. Then some one found a toy sailboat of his in the woods and they came to the conclusion that he had either wandered off or been carried away. No trace of any abductor could be found, however, and it would have been hard work running the men down if it had not been for Migwan's picture of them with the boy and her report that they were headed for the Loon Lake boat. When found, little Raymond was dressed in girl's clothes and effectually disguised. Then Migwan told the story of her fall down the cliff and her night in the woods and her seeing the three on the path in the morning. It was just like a fairy tale.

”By the way,” said Mr. Bartlett when she had finished, ”did you know that I had offered a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars to any one giving information which would lead to Raymond's recovery?”

”No,” said Migwan, ”I didn't.”

”Well,” said Mr. Bartlett, ”that's what I did, and I don't see that any one is ent.i.tled to it but yourself. You gave us the only definite clue we had to work on. It gives me great pleasure, madam, to pay my just debts,” and he handed Migwan a check.

Migwan stared at the slip of paper in a dazed fas.h.i.+on. She could not comprehend the good fortune that had suddenly come to her.

Then she handed the check back to Mr. Bartlett. ”I can't take your money,” she said. ”I really didn't do anything, you know.”

”That's all right,” said Mr. Bartlett, waving her back. ”You did a whole lot more than you know, young lady. Just think of the worry and anxiety you have saved us! It's worth the money, every cent of it. I only wish I could offer a larger reward.”

So Migwan, still protesting, was forced to accept the check, and the Bartletts rose to go. ”Come over and see us sometime,” said Mrs. Bartlett cordially, ”and bring all the girls along. You might have a sleeping party on our lawn.”

”That will be fine, and I accept the invitation in behalf of my girls,” said Nyoda, as she accompanied them to the road where their car stood.

Up on the shack porch Migwan was the center of an excited group, and the check was pa.s.sed from hand to hand. Sahwah sighed enviously and wished with all her heart that she might be the heroine of the hour.

”What are you going to do with all that money?” asked one of the girls.

”It looks,” said Migwan in an awed tone, hugging the precious check in her hands, ”as if I were really going to college, after all!”

CHAPTER VII.

SAHWAH THE SUNFISH.

Migwan sat on a rock on the beach making notes in her journal, now and then lifting her eyes to the lake to watch the shadows gliding across the water, as the clouds floated by overhead.

Sometimes the sunlight was darkened for a few minutes and the lake looked gray and cold, but on the opposite sh.o.r.e a tiny village nestled at the foot of a mountain, and over there the sun was s.h.i.+ning, and the white houses gleamed brightly against the dull brown background. ”It looks like a mirage,” said Migwan to Hinpoha, who had dropped down on the sand at her feet.

Hinpoha glanced across the lake at the fairy scene and then back at Migwan. ”What are you always writing in that book of yours?”

she asked curiously.

”Wouldn't you like to know, though!” replied Migwan, closing it up.

”Oh, let me see some of it, won't you, Migwan, dear?” said Hinpoha coaxingly. ”I love to read what you write and I never make fun of it, you know that. Please do.” After a little more coaxing Migwan relented and handed Hinpoha the page she had just written. Hinpoha spread it out on her knee and read:

”I was sitting in the woods rather pensively the other day when I suddenly became aware of two merry eyes fixed on me from the ground beside me. There was something so irresistibly roguish in their expression that my sadness leaked out of me unceremoniously.

As I looked the eyes disappeared behind a leaf, only to appear an instant later on the other side, and a tiny, round red face nodded cheerfully at me. Visions of wood sprites went through my head and I sat perfectly still, so as not to frighten him away. He had retired behind his leaf after that last nod, but as I made no sound he soon looked out again to see if I was still there. This time I got a good look at him. He was no elf, but a berry; a brilliant round red berry with two little holes in him that looked just like eyes. 'Such a cheerful berry, I thought, 'deserves a whole face,'

so I made him a nose and mouth with my pencil. When last I saw him he was still playing peek-a-boo among the leaves, enjoying the world for all he was worth.”