would roll. Now Gladys understood why Nyoda had told her
especially to bring a small, loosely-stuffed pillow. It was to
roll in the poncho. When it came to the actual rolling Gladys
had to take a hand herself, for it takes two to roll a poncho
successfully.

"Now you tie it up with a square knot," directed Chapa, when the
stovepipe-like roll had been bent into a horseshoe.

"What's a square knot?" asked Gladys.

"Why, this kind," said Chapa, dexterously tying one. Gladys
tried several times, but failed to produce a square knot. "O
dear," she exclaimed impatiently, "I can't tie the crazy thing.
Why won't the other kind do?"

"A granny knot always comes untied," explained Chapa. "Here, I'll
tie your poncho up. It's getting late, and I want to help make
the sandwiches for the girls who are starting first."

"Close your tents before you leave, girls," said Nyoda, appearing
in the doorway, "it may rain while we are away. Very neatly
done," she said, indicating Gladys's poncho with its smooth ties,
"you are fast learning to be a camper." Gladys said nothing
about Chapa's having done it up for her, and of course Chapa
would not say so.

Promptly at ten o'clock the pathfinders marched away, looking
quite explorerfied with their hatchets hanging from their belts
and their Wohelo knives chained to their bloomer pockets. At