“That will be splendid,” glowed Ruth. “Ever since I first saw those woods, I’ve been longing to go into them.” “Is it perfectly safe for us to tackle them without a guide?” asked Anne timidly. “I’ve read ever so many blood-curdling tales of people who got hopelessly lost in northern forests, and had all sorts of horrible adventures.” “But we don’t intend to get lost,” stoutly declared venturesome Jane, always ready for the unexplored. “All we have to do is to blaze a proper trail, and keep together. When folks get lost in the woods, it’s generally because they stray away from one another. It would be hard to lose this noisy crowd.” “These woods are not dense enough to warrant getting lost. In the past few years, the lumbering business has served to cut away a great deal of the timber up here. Later on, we shall take to the woods with an Indian guide, whom I know, to look out for us. I have planned a trip to Vermilion Lake. It lies about a hundred miles from here. We will go by train to Tower, a town situated on the lake. Our guide will meet us there, and show us some real forest country. We shall be away for at least two weeks, and sleep under tents. Does that please you?” The jubilant cries which arose at this announcement gave signal proof of the pleasure of the eight girls. The alluring prospect of the trip was doubly enhanced by the promise of a real Indian guide. “What is the name of our guide, Miss Drexal?” eagerly inquired Ruth. “His name is Blue Wolf. He is a Cheyenne, and his grandfather was a famous Cheyenne chief. He lives in a lodge about twenty miles from here, and spends most of his time hunting and trapping in Canada. He was a firm friend of my father’s, who once nursed him through a long illness when they were both young men. He swore allegiance then to my father, and has ever since been a faithful friend to our family. He is a quaint person, middle-aged but so strong and rugged he looks almost like a young man. He is very proud, and dignified, with little to say. When he does talk, his English is rather broken. He is quite easily offended, so you had best treat him with a certain amount of respect. Taking a party of girls on a camping trip will be a new experience for him. I had some difficulty in persuading him to promise his services. It was only to please a Drexal that he consented.” “We shall have to practice beforehand,” asserted Frances gleefully. “Jane, you may be Blue Wolf, and we will pose as your respectful admirers. You can say ‘How’ when you are pleased with us, and ‘Ugh’ when we don’t come up to your expectations. You can wear one of those striped portieres, that hang in the living room door, for a blanket, and I will thoughtfully pluck a few feathers from that big duster in the kitchen and make you a head-piece. Won’t that be nice?” Frances was captivated by the cleverness of her own idea, and smirked patronizingly at her selected victim.