of
the falls dashing over the rocks.

Mr. Weston led the way to a big flat rock above the mill, and where two
large beech trees cast a pleasant shade.

"You can rest here while I look over the mill," he said, "and then I
will see if I can spear a salmon for our dinner."

The girls were quite ready to rest, and Rebby set the basket carefully
on the rock beside them.

"Would it not be fine if we could catch a salmon and have it all cooked
when Father comes back?" Anna suggested, but Rebby shook her head.

"We haven't any salmon spear, and it is quick and skilful work," she
responded. "Father will be better pleased if we obey him and rest here."

From where the girls were sitting they could look some distance up the
quiet stream, and it was Anna who first discovered a canoe being paddled
close to the opposite shore.

"Look, Rebby," she said, pointing in the direction of the slow-moving
craft. "Isn't that an Indian?"

Rebby looked, and after a moment answered: "Why, I suppose it is, and
after salmon. But he won't come down so near the falls." But the girls
watched the slow-moving canoe rather anxiously until it drew close in to
the opposite shore, and was hidden by the overhanging branches of the
trees.

Rebby decided that she would gather some dry grass and sticks for the
fire, and asked Anna to go down near the mill and bring up some of the
bits of wood lying about there.

"Then when Father does bring the salmon we can start a blaze right
away," she said.

Anna ran off toward the mill yard, and Rebby left the shade of the big
beeches to pull handfuls of the sun-dried grass.

Rebby had gone but a few steps when she heard a queer singing murmur
that seemed to be just above her head. She looked up, but the sky was
clear; there was no bird flying low, as she had imagined; but as she
walked along the murmur became louder, and Rebby began to look about her
more carefully. A short distance from the flat rock was a huge stump of
a broken tree, and Rebby soon realized that the noise came from the
stump, and she approached it cautiously.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's a honey-tree! It is! It is!" for she had seen
the bees as they went steadily in a dark murmuring line, direct to the
old stump.

"A honey-tree" was a fortunate discovery at any time, for it meant a
store of delicious wild honey. It was, as in this case, usually a
partially decayed tree where the wild bees had swarmed, and where stores
of honey were con