Janet arrived for the occasion, bringing with her a score of her friends. All through the previous day the trail from the north had brought strings of cayuses from the Indian Reserve, their dusky riders gaily bedecked in holiday attire. “_Klahowya, tillicum!_” they shouted, their coffee-coloured faces lighting up with a grin that betokened a gala day spirit. Their tents dotted the lake-shore, their camp fires glowing cheerfully throughout the night.
The sports committee had arranged a varied list of events. A rowing race between the two camps; a sack race, free for all; a baseball game between the whites and the Indians; a sawing race in which two “buckers” from each camp would participate; a hundred-yard dash; a log-rolling contest between a man from the State of Maine and a citizen of New Brunswick. But these were mere preliminaries to the real event of the day, the much advertised horse-race. The men from the other camps, arrayed in their “Sunday clothes” made their appearance early in the day.
Each camp brought its quota of sandwiches and cakes, but the brunt of the work fell on Andy and his assistants, who piled tier upon tier of sandwiches on the long tables under the willows by the lake-shore. The lemonade was in half-barrels at each end of the tables, with a “help yourself” sign attached.
Old Klootchmen, with stolid, sombre faces, etched deep with cross-hatching of wrinkles, walked through the throng laden with baskets they were trying to sell. “Mika tika basket,” quavered their aged voices as they held forth their wares.
About eleven o’clock Mr. Wainwright appeared alone.
“As you are aware, Mr. McLean, Connie is very shy. I could not induce her to accompany me.”
“That will never do,” said Donald quickly. “I am going after her.”
“I am afraid that your trip will avail you nothing,” smiled Wainwright in his absent-minded way.
Donald borrowed a cayuse and set off up the trail. He hitched the horse at the edge of the clearing and proceeded on foot down the path, his shoes making no sound on the soft dark earth. As he turned a clump of alders and came in view of the cabin he stopped short, arrested by a sight that evidently elicited his amused interest.
Connie stood outside the door before a small mirror hung on the rough log walls of the house. She was attempting to place her heavy hair in a knob at the top of her head. A page cut from a magazine was tacked to a log near the mirror. She studied the photograph carefully, then returned to the attack with renewed vigour. But she could not get it to suit her. She tried and tried, but the heavy shining coils would elude her slender fingers and fall in a golden cascade over her slight shoulders. Her efforts to reach a satisfactory result brought her to the verge of tears. She stamped her little foot impetuously. At last she got it arranged in a fair semblance to that of the envied actress. The effect was so startling that Donald fairly gasped. The child of the moment before was transformed, as if by a fairy’s wand, to a woman of wondrous grace and beauty.