corn--a big crop--this year so the
Indians will have plenty to eat. For they depend a whole lot on corn
meal for bread, pancakes and the like of that. I told Bunny I'd show him
how the Indians roast the ears of green corn to-morrow, if you'd let
me."

"Oh, please, Momsie, do!"

"Oh, Daddy, let him!"

The first was Sue's plea, the second Bunny's, and the father and mother
smiled.

"Well, I think it will be all right if Tom is as careful about fire as
he is on the water," said Mr. Brown.

"Oh, goodie!" cried Sue, while Bunny smiled and danced his delight.

Finally Camp Rest-a-While was quiet, for every one was in bed and the
only noises to be heard were those made by the animals and insects of
the wood, an owl now and then calling out: "Who? Who? Who?" just as if
it were trying to find some one who was lost.

"Where'll we get the ears to roast?" asked Bunny as soon as he was up
the next morning. "We don't grow any corn in our camp."

"Oh, we can get some roasting ears from almost any of the farmers around
here," said Tom. "But we don't want to make the fire until night. It
looks prettier then."

"That's what I say," cried Sue. "And if you wait until night I'll make
some muffins to eat with the roast corn. Mother is going to show me
how."

"Well, don't put any chow-chow mince-meat in your muffins," begged Bunny
with a laugh.

"I won't," promised Sue. "But can't we do something while we're waiting
for night to come so we can roast the corn?"

"Will you put up the swing you promised to make for us, Tom?" asked
Bunny.

"Yes, if you have the rope."

"We can row across the lake in the boat to the store at the landing, and
get the rope there," said Bunny. "I'll ask my mother."

Mrs. Brown gave permission and Tom was soon making a swing, hanging it
down from a high branch of a strong oak tree. Then Bunny and Sue took
turns swinging, while Tom pushed.

After dinner they decided it was time to go for the roasting ears, and
again they were in the boat, as it was nearer to the farmer's house
across the water than by going the winding road.

Tom picked out the kind of ears he wanted, large and full of kernels in
which the milk, or white juice, was yet running. This was a corn that
ripened late, and was very good for roasting.

With the corn in one end of the boat, and the children in the stern, or
rear, where he could watch them as they moved about on the broad seat,
Tom rowed the boat toward camp. They reach