“What did you know we’d get?” they asked in tones of concern. “Are we lamed for life?”
“Hardly as bad as that,” laughed Nyoda. “I have good hopes of your ultimate recovery. You have what the French call ‘mal de racquette’—the snowshoe sickness. You use a different set of muscles when snowshoeing than you do ordinarily, and these muscles become very stiff and sore. All you need is a little limbering oil. Little Sisters of the Snow, you are learning by experience!”
It was fully a week before either the Winnebagos or Sandwiches went snowshoeing again, although they made excellent excuses. Neither group would admit to the other that they had become stiff, and would not limp for worlds when in the sight of the others, although it nearly killed them to walk naturally. Nevertheless, they understood each other perfectly.
In February came a three days’ snow storm that covered the earth with a blanket several feet thick, and a slight thaw followed by a zero snap produced an excellent crust. The Winnebagos were having a solemn ceremonial meeting in the Open Door Lodge when without warning there was a sound of scrambling up the ladder and the Captain burst in among them.
“Oh, I say,” he shouted, and then stopped suddenly as he became aware that the girls were engaged in singing some kind of a motion song. “Excuse me,” he stammered in confusion, “I didn’t know you were having a pow-wow. I heard you singing up here and thought you were just having a good time.”
“What news can you be bringing that made you burst in on us in such a fashion?” said Nyoda sternly, but with a twinkle in her eye. “Speak sir, the queen commands.”
The Captain seemed ready to burst with his message and fired his words like bullets from an automatic pistol. “My Uncle Theodore’s here, you know, the one I said had been up north, and he knows a dandy place in the country where there are some log cabins and he wants us all to go down there on our snowshoes for a winter hike and stay three days over the Washington’s Birthday holiday. Oh, please, can you girls come?”
“Oh, I forgot,” went on the Captain, “my aunt’s here, too, and she’s just as good on snowshoes as Uncle Theodore is, and she’s going along, too, and will see that you girls don’t take cold or anything. Please say you’ll come.”