A glorious mountain day, clear as crystal, breezy and cool, greeted the girls as they stepped out of their tents next morning. After the merry breakfast in the bungalow, Frances and Betty seized their rackets and joined Pamela Kirkland and Grace Gardner in a game of tennis on the court which Cecily said that her cousins, the Hamiltons, had laid out for the campers. Most of the older girls turned to their unpacking as a tiresome business to be rushed through as early as possible; but the spell of the woods and water was on Carol and she sallied forth leaving her trunk to be emptied at a more convenient season. She found Jean sitting on the veranda with only Roderick Dhu for company:

“What’s the matter, Jeanie?” she asked. “Have your friends forsaken you?”

“I’m waiting for Cece to get through helping her mother, but she’s so busy I don’t believe she’ll be ready till dinner-time!” said Jean. “What are you going to do, Carolie?”

“I’m going to steal a canoe and explore the lake. I can’t stay on shore a minute longer,” answered Carol. “I’ll take you aboard if you’ll promise to obey the captain’s orders.”

Jean was up in a flash. “Oh, Carolie, teach me to paddle!” she begged. “I’m dying to learn!”

“All right, but I’ll have to teach you to stay still in a canoe first, Miss Perpetual Motion, and when you’ve learned that, I’ll teach you the stroke.”

They helped themselves to paddles from the boat-house. Carol chose a gaily painted canoe and settled Jean in it luxuriously on the scarlet cushions; then she took her place in the stern, and by her vigorous strokes sent the little craft shooting away up the lake, over wavelets that flashed with myriad suns and rocked them delightfully. Jean had never been in a canoe before, and this swift gliding and gentle rocking seemed the very poetry of motion.

Camp Huairarwee stood in one of the loveliest spots on the whole lake, for there the broad sheet of water bowed out into a great emerald bay set in a border of white and golden birches, spicy balsams, and towering pines. Passing out of this wide basin the explorers discovered miniature capes and inviting little coves, and found fresh beauty at every turn.

“Let me paddle now!” Jean coaxed, when lying at ease in the canoe had lost the charm of novelty. “I’ve learned to sit still, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I think I could trust you to sit still even if a sea-serpent bobbed up,” said Carol. “Wait, and I’ll paddle in toward shore; it’s too rough out here.” They were abreast of a point of land and, as they left it behind them, she swung the canoe around to enter the bay beyond.

“Oh, look!” cried Jean. “There’s a boy standing up in a canoe! Won’t he go over?” Just ahead of them they saw a boy standing in his canoe, balancing himself easily in spite of the wind-whipped water.

The lad looked about fifteen or sixteen. He was tall and slight, fair-haired, but with arms as brown as an Indian’s. They passed his canoe within a few paddles’ lengths, and the girls saw a well-bronzed face, bright and frank and keen.

Carol and Jean glided into the little bay. The boy sat down in his canoe and let it drift. As they neared the beach, they saw a kingfisher rise and fly chattering away. The lad saw it too. He picked up a rifle from the bottom of his canoe and took aim. His action was quick, the “halcyon’s” flight was quick, and Jean’s righteous indignation was quick.

“Don’t shoot that bird!” she screamed, and started as she screamed. Just what else she did she could never afterward explain, but the next instant she and Carol took an unpremeditated dive! Over went the canoe, and into the cold water they plunged and made sudden acquaintance with the bottom of the lake. Happily they were within their depth, and though the water closed over their heads it was only for a moment. Carol clutched Jean and tried to drag her up. Jean clutched Carol and in the shock and fright pulled her under again. But they managed to struggle to their feet, gasping, choking, coughing, spluttering. Their heads were out of water, but Jean had to stand on tiptoe to keep her chin above the surface. She could hardly have held herself up but for Carol’s arm supporting her, and she clung to her friend’s neck, making it impossible for her to move. But the boy who had started the mischief came to their relief with lightning speed.

“Catch hold!” he cried, bringing the bow of his canoe up to them. They caught it and raised themselves.

“Hold on tight!” he commanded, and Jean clung fast.

Carol, now free, struck out for herself, and swam and waded ashore, and the young rescuer paddled with all his strength, and brought Jean safely to the strip of beach. He jumped out and stood watching the girls anxiously as they wrung out their skirts and regained their breath.

“Get our canoe—quick!” panted Carol.

“That’s right! I’m an old duffer!” said the boy, recalled to his duty. Satisfied that the shipwrecked mariners did not require artificial respiration, he reembarked and brought back their canoe, with the paddles and cushions which had gone floating up the lake.

“I d-d-d-didn’t know the w-w-w-water was s-s-so cold!” said Jean through chattering teeth. “H-h-how did it happen, anyway?”

“You took a flying leap, you crazy! Whatever possessed you?” returned Carol wrathfully. “A little farther out and we’d both have been drowned, with you pulling me down!”

“It was all my fault,” said the boy penitently. “I’m awfully sorry!”

“We’ll have to go right straight back or we’ll catch our deaths,” said Carol, shivering.

“You get into my canoe and let me paddle you back. We’ll tow yours,” the lad proposed.

“Oh, thank you ever so much!” replied Carol. “But it would be too bad to trouble you. We can go back alone perfectly well. We’re at Mrs. Brook’s camp. That isn’t far. You’re not Dr. Hamilton’s son, Mrs. Brook’s nephew, are you?”

“No, but I know the Hamiltons,” he answered, with a bright, winning smile. “Look here! Let me take you there,—it’s just round that first point, and Mrs. Hamilton and Miss Rose will give you some dry things. Won’t you please? You’d better. That’s where I was just going, myself. We’ll have the wind with us, and so you won’t get so chilled.”

“Oh, thank you,—I believe that’s the best thing to do,” said Carol. “They’ll think we’re mermaids gone insane, but I can’t help it! We’ll freeze if we try to go all the way back!”

“Oh, you mustn’t think of it! You’d be icicles by the time you got back,” said the boy, and he tied the girls’ canoe to his.

“Well, I don’t care! I’m glad I stopped you from shooting that poor bird, even if I did upset the canoe!” cried Jean.

“Why, I wasn’t really going to shoot,” he answered, with laughter in his gray eyes. “My rifle wasn’t even loaded.”

“Wasn’t it?” gasped Jean, and felt desperately foolish.

“There,—Queen of the Silver Sword!” laughed Carol. “You have begun the summer with a valorous deed!”

“I was only fooling. I’m awfully sorry I scared you!” the owner of the rifle apologized. Anxious to make amends, he helped the girls into his canoe and paddled hastily farther up the lake toward the Hamiltons’ camp.

“We forgot all about thanking you for saving us,” said Carol. “But we do thank you ever and ever so much. I don’t know what we should have done without you!”

“You wouldn’t have capsized without me!” he replied with a chuckle.

“Oh, yes, we would; she’d have jumped overboard for something else! Wouldn’t you, Queenie?” said Carol.

“But I don’t think I did anything,” poor Jean protested. “I just called out, and the canoe went over.” And she did not know whether to enjoy the thrill of adventure or be wretched with cold and mortification.

“Oh, dear! My beautiful new hair-ribbons!” she wailed, as she pulled off two dripping wet strings,—a few minutes before, broad satin bows.

“Oh, my poor wig! it feels just like seaweed!” moaned Carol, wringing out her sopping curly mop.

“Oo-ooh! I’m so cold!” Jean complained. “Why are you so much colder when you go in all dressed than when you’re in your bathing-suit?”

“Maybe because it’s so unexpected,” replied Carol.

“What do you suppose they’ll say when we get back?” asked Jean, with countenance forlorn.

“Oh, Jean, let’s not borrow trouble!” sighed Carol. But their thoughts were soon diverted from the melancholy future.

Passing the next point, they saw on a breezy elevation—a tent with a flag flying above it, and a bungalow. “There’s the Hamiltons’ camp,” said the boy. “They call it Camp Hurricane.”