“A fire would feel good,” said Keith, looking around with a shiver as he seated himself on a log near Ginger.  The sun was low in the west, and very little of its light and warmth found its way into the woods where the children were playing.

“It makes me think of Hiawatha,” said Ginger, looking down at several long streaks of golden light which lay across the ground at her feet.  “Don’t you remember how it goes?  ’And the long and level sunbeams shot their spears into the forest, breaking through its shield of shadow,’ Isn’t that pretty?  I love Hiawatha.  I am going to learn pages and pages of it some day.  I know all that part about Minnehaha now,”

“Say it while we are waiting,” said Keith, pulling his short trousers down as far as possible, and wishing that he had sleeves, or else that the paint were thicker on his chilly arms.

“All right,” began Virginia.

     “’Oh the long and dreary winter! 
     Oh the cold and cruel winter! 
     Ever thicker, thicker, thicker
     Froze the ice on lake and river.’”

“Ugh!  Don’t!” interrupted Keith, with a shiver.  “It makes my teeth chatter, talking about such cold things!”

Just then a shout came ringing down the hill, “Oh, Keith!  Come here a minute!  Quick!”

“What do you wa-ant?” yelled Keith, in return.

“Come up here!  Quick!  Hurry up!”

“What do you s’pose can be the matter?” exclaimed Keith, scrambling to his feet.  “Maybe the bear has got loose and run away.”

“Come and untie me first,” said Virginia, “and I’ll go, too.”  Keith gave several quick tugs at the many knotted string which bound her, but could not loosen it.  Again the call came, impatient and sharp, “Keith! Oh, Keith!”

“Oh, I can’t loosen it a bit,” said Keith.  “You’ll have to wait till Malcolm comes with his knife.  We’ll be back in just a minute.  I’ll go and see what’s the matter.”

“Be sure that you don’t stay!” screamed Ginger, as the scarlet bedroom slippers and green striped legs flashed out of sight through the bushes.

“Back—­in—­a—­minute!” sounded shrilly through the woods.

Keith found Malcolm on the back porch, pounding excitedly on a box which the express-man had left there a few minutes before.

“It’s the camera we have been looking for all week,” he cried.  “Come on and have a look at it.”

“Ginger said to hurry back,” said Keith.

“Pshaw!  It won’t take but a minute.  I’ll pry the box open in a jiffy.”

It was harder work than the boys had supposed, to take the tightly nailed lid from its place, and they were so intent on their work they did not realise how quickly the minutes were passing.

“Isn’t it a beauty?” exclaimed Malcolm, when it was at last unpacked.  “It’s lots bigger and finer than the one papa promised.  But that’s the way he always does.  Oh, isn’t it a peach!”