“I feel as though I had been gone for weeks,” said Migwan, as they climbed out of the canoes.
“So do I,” said Sahwah, dancing up and down on the dock to take the stiffness out of her muscles. “Doesn’t it look civilized, though, after what we’ve just experienced? I wish,” she continued longingly, “that I could live in the wilds all the time.”
“I don’t,” replied Migwan, patting the diving tower as if it were an old friend. “Camp is plenty wild enough for me.”
“Why, where is camp?” asked Sahwah in perplexity, noticing that the whole place was dark and still. It was half past six, the usual after-supper frolic hour, when camp was wont to ring to the echo with fun and merriment of all kinds. Now no sound came from Mateka, nor from the bungalow, nor from any of the tents, no sound and no movement. Before their astonished eyes the camp lay like an enchanted city, changed in their absence from a place of racket and bustle and resounding laughter, to a silent ghost of its former lively self.
“What’s happened?” exclaimed the Winnebagos to each other. “Is everybody gone on a trip?”
Mystified, they climbed up the hill, and at the top they found Miss Judy going from tent to tent with her flashlight, as if making the nightly rounds after lights out.
“O Miss Judy,” they called to her, “what’s happened?”
“Shh-h-h!” replied Miss Judy, holding up her hand for silence and coming toward them. “Everybody’s in bed,” she whispered when she was near enough for them to hear her.”
“In bed!” exclaimed the Winnebagos in astonishment. “At half past six in the evening? What for?”
“It’s Topsy-Turvy Day,” replied Miss Judy, laughing at their amazed faces. “We’re turning everything upside down tonight. Hurry and get into bed. The rising bugle will blow in half an hour.”
Giggling with amusement the Winnebagos sped to their tents, unrolled their ponchos, made up their beds in a hurry, undressed quickly and popped into bed. Not long afterward they heard the dipping of paddles and the monotonous “one, two, one two,” of the boatswain as the crew of the Turtle started out for practice. The Turtle’s regular practice hour was the half hour before rising bugle in the morning.
Tired with her long paddle that day Hinpoha fell asleep as soon as she touched the pillow, and was much startled to hear the loud blast of a bugle in the midst of a delightful dream. “What’s the matter?” she asked sleepily, sitting up and looking around her in bewilderment. “What are they blowing the bugle in the middle of the night for?”
“They aren’t blowing the bugle in the middle of the night,” said Sahwah with a shriek of laughter at Hinpoha’s puzzled face. “This is Topsy-Turvy Day, don’t you remember? We’re going to have our regular day’s program at night time. It’s ten minutes to seven, and that’s the bugle for morning dip. Are you coming?”