m suddenly made up her mind, too. "I'm going with you." she
declared. "I'm not going to stay here and be insulted any longer. It'll
serve them right to do without my services as councilor for the rest of
the summer. I'll just leave a note for Mrs. Grayson and slip out quietly
with you."

When the expedition returned the following day both Pecky and Monty were
gone.

Bengal raised such a shout of joy when she heard of the departure of her
despised councilor that her tent mates were obliged to restrain her
transports for the look of the thing, but they, too, were somewhat
relieved to be rid of her.

The reason of the double departure remained a mystery in camp until the
very end, but there were a select few that always winked solemnly at one
another whenever Dr. Grayson wondered what had become of his largest
camping kettle.

CHAPTER XIV

REGATTA DAY

The long anticipated, the much practiced for Regatta Day had dawned,
bringing with it crowds of visitors to Camp. It was Camp Keewaydin's
great day, when the Avenue and the Alley struggled for supremacy in
aquatics. The program consisted of contests in swimming and diving,
canoe upsetting and righting, demonstrations of rescue work, stunts and
small canoe races, and ended up with a race between the two war canoes.
Visitors came from all the summer resorts around, and many of the girls'
parents and friends came to see their daughters perform.

The dock and the diving platform were gay with flags; the tents had been
tidied up to wax-like neatness and decorated with wild flowers until
they looked like so many royal bowers; in Mateka an exhibition of Craft
Work was laid out on the long tables--pottery and silver work and
weaving and decorating. Hinpoha's rose jar, done with infinite pains
and patience after its unfortunate meeting with Cousin Egmont, held the
place of honor in the centre of the pottery table, and her silver
candlesticks, done in an exquisite design of dogwood blossoms, was the
most conspicuous piece on the jewelry table.

"Hinpoha'll get the Craft Work prize, without any doubt," said Migwan to
Agony as they stood helping to arrange the articles in the Craft Work
exhibit. "She's a real artist. The rest of us are just dabblers. It's
queer, though, I admire that little plain pottery bowl I made myself
more than I do Hinpoha's wonderful rose jar. I suppose it's because I
made it all myself; it's like my own child. There's a thrill about doing
thin