Gladys's face was drawn with distress. "Mother would be frightened to
death if she knew about it," she said. "I don't believe I'll tell her
yet. I'll wait until I hear from Nyoda."

"How will we get word to Nyoda?" asked Hinpoha.

"Ft. Wayne," answered Gladys. "We were to stay there to-night and she
must be there by this time."

"You'll send a wire for us?" she asked the doctor beseechingly.

"Certainly," he answered, amiably. "Any service--"

But Gladys cut him short. He was plainly enjoying the situation. The
doctor departed with his horrid shiny little case and the message in
his pocket and left the guard to watch the house. The first thing he
did was to take something out of the Striped Beetle--I don't know
what--so Gladys couldn't start it and make a dash for liberty. Gladys
was ready to cry with rage at this high handed act, but that was all the
good it did her.

"Well, there's one thing about it," said Hinpoha, who was far more
philosophical than the rest, "if we have to stay prisoners here we
might as well get busy and help Mrs. Martin. It's no fun to have five
people quartered on you when there are two sick children in the house."
Medmangi was already in the sick room giving medicine and drinks of
water in an accomplished manner. It seems that the Winnebagos have a
specialist in every line.

The others went down to the kitchen and finished paring the peaches