twenty-minute intervals the other pairs started, Nyoda going the
rounds before she left to see who had left her things in the
neatest order, and whose poncho looked the best. A banner would
go to the pair who kept up the best style throughout the hike.
She and Medmangi ate their lunch before starting, as they left so
near noon.

Leaving camp in the care of the man from the village, they struck
into the path through the woods. The whole earth seemed filled
with the scent of flowers and the invigorating odor of the pines.
Here in Maine the wild strawberries were in full prime early in
July, and the path was bordered with daisies and other bright
flowers. The two swung along in silence with an enjoyment too
deep for words, for they appreciated as only Camp Fire Girls can
the beauties and, wonders of nature. Back somewhere in the world
they had left behind dull care might be beating its incessant
tom-tom, and the air was full of wars and rumors of wars, but
here every harsh note was drowned in the singing of birds.
"Isn't it glorious?" said Nyoda fervently, drinking in a long
breath of the pine-scented air, and swelling out her already
well-developed chest.

Presently the path they were on was crossed by another and at the
intersection there was a splash of bright red paint on a tree.
"A blaze!" cried Nyoda, stopping short. "Which path did they
take, I wonder?" In the road at the foot of the blazed tree lay
a small heap of stones pointing in the direction taken by the
leaders. "What's this?" asked Nyoda, picking up a small box from
beside the stones. It was marked "For Nyoda." She lifted the
lid and out hopped a tiny live frog. In the bottom of the box