op to it. Both looked chilly and scared out of their
wits.

"Weren't you horribly frightened when the boat sprang a leak?" asked
Hinpoha.

Anthony immediately swelled out his chest. "No, I wasn't a bit afraid,"
he said grandly. "I'm not a fraidy cat. But _she_ was," he said,
pointing to his sister, "she yelled bloody murder."

"I didn't either," contradicted Antha. "It was you that yelled the
loudest and you know it was. Papa told you to keep still."

"Didn't either," declared Anthony.

"Did, too!" said Antha, stamping her foot. "Didn't he, Papa?" And she
interrupted her father right in the midst of his conversation with Mr.
Evans.

"Yes, yes, dear," answered the judge absently, and went on talking.

"There now!" said Antha triumphantly.

"Well, anyway," went on Anthony, "you yelled as loud as you _could_
yell, and I didn't."

Antha promptly burst into tears.

"Cry baby, cry baby," mocked her brother.

Gladys and Hinpoha bore the weeping Antha away to one of the tents and
the Sandwich boys took Anthony under their wing. The storm was still
increasing and it was plain that the Dalrymples would have to remain for
the night.

"And no eggs or milk or bread for supper," wailed Aunt Clara. "And we
can't bake anything because the oven won't heat in this wind."

"There's loads of canned spaghetti," said Gladys, investigating the
supplies.

It was rather a hop-scotch meal that was served that night in the
billowing supper tent, for, besides the bread and milk and eggs, the men
had forgotten the canned beans which Aunt Clara had ordered for future
use, but which would have helped admirably in this emergency. Then at
the last moment they discovered that the sugar was out. But the hearty
appetites of the Tribe were never dismayed at anything, and the
spaghetti and unsweetened, black coffee disappeared as if it had been
nectar and ambrosia. Judge Dalrymple waved aside Aunt Clara's profuse
apologies for the gaps in the menu and ate spaghetti heartily, but Antha
picked at hers with a dissatisfied expression and hardly ate a mouthful.
The Winnebagos saw it and were greatly pained because they had nothing
better to offer.

"Ho-ho-ho!" scoffed Anthony. "Antha has to eat spaghetti because there
isn't anything else. That's a good one on her. She never will eat it at
home. Ho-ho-ho!" And he grimaced derisively at her across the table.
Antha laid down her fork and dissolved in tears again.

The judge, interrupted in his