The Campfire Girls on Ellen's Isle The Trail of the Seven Cedars

Excerpt

AS USUAL

It was the hottest day of the hottest week of the hottest June ever recorded in the weather man’s book of statistics. The parched earth had split open everywhere in gaping cracks that intersected and made patterns in the garden like a crazy quilt. The gray-coated leaves hung motionless from the shriveling twigs, limp and discouraged. Horses lifted their seared feet wearily from the sizzling, yielding asphalt; dogs panted by with their tongues hanging out; pedestrians closed their eyes to shut out the merciless glare from the sidewalks. The streets were almost deserted, like those of a southern city during the noon hours, while a wilted population sought the shelter of house or cellar and prayed for rain.

On the vine-screened veranda of the Bradford home three of the Winnebagos–Hinpoha, Sahwah and Migwan–reclined on wicker couches sipping ice cold lemonade and wearily waving palm-leaf fans. The usually busy tongues were still for once; it was too hot to talk. Brimming over with life and energy as they generally were, it seemed on this drowsy and oppressive afternoon that they would never be able to move again. Mr. Bob, Hinpoha’s black cocker, shared in the prevailing laziness; he lay sprawled on his back with all four feet up in the air, breathing in panting gasps that shook his whole body. A bumble bee, blundering up on the porch, broke the spell. It lit on Mr. Bob’s face, whereupon Mr. Bob sprang into the air, quivering with excitement, and knocked Hinpoha’s glass out of her hand. Hinpoha picked up the pieces with one hand and patted Mr. Bob with the other.

“Poor old Bobbles,” she said soothingly, “what a shame to make him move so fast! Lucky I had finished the lemonade; there isn’t any more in the pitcher and we used the last lemons in the house.”

Sahwah, roused from her reverie, sat up and began fanning herself with greater energy. “Of all summers to have to stay in town!” she said disconsolately. “I don’t remember having such hot weather, ever.”

“Neither does anyone else,” said Migwan with a yawn. “So what’s the use wasting energy trying to remember anything worse? Didn’t the paper say ‘the present hot spell has broken all known records for June?’”

“It broke our thermometer, too,” said Hinpoha, joining in the conversation. “It went to a hundred and six and then it blew up and fell off the hook.”

“And to think that we might all have been out camping now, if Nyoda hadn’t gone away,” continued Sahwah with a heavy sigh. “This is the first summer for three years we won’t be together. I can’t get used to the idea at all. Gladys is going to the seashore and Katherine is going home to Arkansas in three weeks, and Nyoda is gone forever! I just haven’t any appetite for this vacation at all.” And she sighed a still heavier sigh.

The three lapsed into silence once more. Vacation had as little savor for the other two as it did for Sahwah. Now that the summer’s outing with Nyoda had to be given up the next three months yawned before them like an empty gulf....