Right after dinner the little voyaging party pushed out from the dock and headed upstream; three canoes side by side with ponchos and provisions stowed away under the seats, and the Winnebago banner trailing from the stern of the “flagship,” the one in which Miss Amesbury rode, with Sahwah and Migwan as paddlers.  Migwan and Hinpoha had constructed the banner in record time that morning, giving up their swimming hour to finish it.  No Winnebago expedition should ever start out without a banner flying; they would just as soon have gone without their shoes.  Oh-Pshaw waved them a brave farewell from the dock, philosophically accepting the fact that she could not go in a canoe and making no fuss about it.

Jo Severance, who had paddled up the river before, and knew its course thoroughly, acted as guide and pilot.  For the first night’s camping ground they were going to a place where Jo had camped on a former trip, a place which she enthusiastically described as “just made for four beds to be spread in.”  It had all the conveniences of home, she assured them; a nearby spring for drinking water and a good place to swim, and what more could anyone want!

By common consent they paddled slowly at the outset, wisely refraining from exhausting their strength in the first mile or so, as is so apt to be the case with inexperienced paddlers.  The Winnebagos had paddled together so often that it was unnecessary for them to count aloud to keep together; the six paddles flashed and dipped as one in time to some mysterious inner rhythm, sending the three canoes forward with a smooth, even motion, and keeping their noses almost in a straight line across the river.

“How beautifully you pull together!” exclaimed Miss Amesbury in admiration, leaning back and watching the six brown arms rising and falling in unison.

“We’re used to pulling together,” said Sahwah simply.

The boys from Camp Altamont were at their swimming hour when they passed, and hailed them with great shouting, which they returned with a camp cheer and a salute with the paddles.  The red canoes were drawn up in a line on the dock and Agony wondered which one it was that had made the stealthy voyage to Camp Keewaydin the night before.  This brought back to her mind the subject of Jane Pratt, and she wondered if Jane had really taken her seriously when she had demanded that she confess her breaking of the camp rule; if Jane would really tell Mrs. Grayson herself, or force her to inform upon her.  It came over her rather forcefully that she was not exactly in a position to be telling tales about other deceivers—­that she was in their class herself.

“Why so pensive?” inquired Miss Amesbury brightly, as Agony paddled along in silence, looking straight ahead of her and paying no attention to the gay conversation going on all about her.

Agony collected herself and smiled brightly at Miss Amesbury.  “I was just thinking,” she replied composedly.  “Did I look glum?  I was wondering if I had put my toothbrush in my poncho, I forgot it on our last trip.”