"We ought to be pretty near the end of our journey," said Nyoda
to Medmangi, at about half-past four in the afternoon. "Have you
caught sight of Balsam Lake yet?"

Medmangi shook her head. "The woods are too thick to see
anything through," she answered. "Let's call," said Nyoda.
Together they raised their hands to their mouths and sent out the
long, yodling call of the Camp Fire Girls, and then stood silent,
listening. Before the echoes had ceased coming out of the woods
the call was answered from somewhere beyond the trees. "We're
nearly there!" said Nyoda, and they quickened their pace as they
went through the last strip of woods. Soon they heard voices and
saw figures moving about in the distance, and presently they came
upon the rest of the girls on the shore of the tiny lake. Some
of the girls were lying at full length on the soft ground; others
were preparing supper. Hinpoha was chopping wood with her
hatchet; Sahwah was shaving chocolate with hers. The fire was
built close to the water's edge and the firelight shone out redly
across the water.

Migwan set a can of beans in the embers to warm, then she sat
down on the beach to enjoy the view. The late afternoon sun was
pouring its full glory on the lake, making its surface one
dazzling sheet of light. Migwan shaded her eyes with her hand,
and drank in the splendor of the scene with all her beauty-loving
soul. "Now I know how Scott felt when he wrote:

"One burnished sheet of living gold,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,"'