“Oh, I could float along like this and sing forever!” breathed Hinpoha, picking out soft chords on her guitar, and looking dreamily at the evening star glowing like a jewelled lamp in the western sky.

“So could I,” replied Migwan, leaning back in the canoe with her hands clasped behind her head, and letting the light breeze ruffle the soft tendrils of hair around her temples.  “It is going to be full moon tonight,” she added.  “See, there it is, rising above the treetops.  How big and bright it is!  Can it be possible that it is only a mass of dead chalk and not a ball of burnished silver?  Gladys will enjoy that moon, she always loves it so when it is so big and round and bright.  By the way, where is Gladys?  I saw her in a canoe not long ago, but I don’t see her anywhere now.”

“I don’t know where she is,” replied Hinpoha, glancing idly around at the various craft and then letting her eyes rest upon the moon again.

The little fleet had rounded an island and turned back upstream, now traveling in the silver moon-path, now gliding through velvety black shadows, and was approaching a long, low ledge of rock that jutted out into the water just beyond the big bend in the river.  A sudden exclamation of “Ah-h!” drew everybody’s attention to the rock, and there a wondrous spectacle presented itself—­a white robed figure dancing in the moonlight as lighty as a bit of seafoam, her filmy draperies fluttering in the wind, her long yellow hair twined with lillies.

“Who is it?” several voices cried in wonder, and the paddlers stopped spellbound with their paddles poised in air.

“Gladys!” exclaimed Migwan.  “I thought she was planning a surprise, she and Agony were whispering together this afternoon.  Isn’t she wonderful, though!” Migwan’s voice rang with pride in her beloved friend’s accomplishment.  “Too bad Miss Amesbury isn’t here to see it.”

The dancer on the rock dipped and swayed and whirled in a mad measure, finally disappearing into the shadow of a towering cliff, from whence she emerged a few moments later, once more in the canoe with Agony, and changed back from a water nymph into a Camp Keewaydin girl in middy and bloomers.

“It was Agony’s idea,” she explained simply, in response to the storm of applause that greeted her reappearance among the girls.  “She thought of it this afternoon when the word went around that we were going to have supper on the water.”

Then Agony came in for her share of the applause also, until the woods echoed to the sound of cheering.

“Too bad Miss Amesbury had to miss it.”  Thus Agony echoed Migwan’s earlier expression of regret as she walked down the Alley arm in arm with Migwan and Hinpoha after the first bugle.  “She’s been working up there on her balcony all evening, and didn’t hear a bit of the singing.  We were too far up the river.”

“Couldn’t we sing a bit for her?” suggested Migwan.  “Serenade her, I mean; just a few of us who are used to singing together?”