from John Massey--can you manage a
sailboat? Good, I thought you looked like the sort of boy who
could--and take a cruise up and down Medford River where it skirts
that level farming land in the valley. I want you to bring me word of
how the dikes are holding. You may not see what bearing that has upon
the matter, but I assure you it means a great deal. Anthony Crawford
thinks that he is a very clever man, but he is preparing a pitfall for
himself, unless I am very much mistaken. And you and I may be at hand
to see him tumble into it. The only thing is to see that he doesn't
harm others as well as himself."

Oliver had one more question to ask.

"I want to know your last name, and Polly's," he said. "I can't think
how you knew mine and I had quite forgotten to wonder about yours
until Janet reminded me that I had never heard it. I have no name for
you but the Beeman."

"If you want a longer name for Polly, you can call her Polly
Marshall," his friend answered, "but as for me I rather like being
called the Beeman. We will keep to that title a little longer if you
are willing. And now it is high time that I gave some attention to my
bees."

Oliver had no difficulty, later in the day, in borrowing the sailboat
from John Massey, although he was obliged to give the vague message,
"that man who keeps bees up the hill said you would lend her to me."

"Sure, I will," replied John Massey heartily. "Just be careful you
don't go aground on the bars. The river is shallow for this time of
year, though it can be pretty fierce when the floods are up."

Oliver shook out the shabby sail, set the rudder for a long tack
downstream, and was off. The breeze was coming in gentle puffs, so
that the boat moved slowly through the water, the ripples making a
sleepy whisper under the bow and the tiller, now and then, jerking
lazily under his hand. One side of the stream was marshy so that he
pushed into tall grass and cat-tails and startled an indignant
kingfisher who was dozing on a dead tree. The bird went skimming off,
a flash of blue and white that he followed as he came about.

On the other side, the current ran close beside the high banks of
earth that protected the fields within. The channel was scoured deep
and the restless stream was cutting into the dikes, washing long black
scars just above the water line.

"That oughtn't to be," pronounced Oliver, and was glad to see that,
farther downstream, the carving away of the earth ha