ordered Mrs. Gibbons to
get him food. At the same time he showed a fine beaver skin for exchange.
Empty cupboards and barrels were opened, but the fierce creature believed
the food was hidden and raised his knife as a threat. At this a sudden
thought struck Rebecca. With energy she motioned for him to wait. Then
she darted to her secret garden, where she tore the precious ears from
the stalks until her arms were full. Fearing for her mother in the
meantime, she flew back to the house to find that Rowls had patiently
waited.

It was what he wanted. With a satisfied grunt, he took the corn and
presented Rebecca with the most beautiful beaver skin she had ever seen.
After the Sagamore had gone and the palisade gate was bolted, Rebecca
explained her secret garden to her surprised mother.

She then for the first time realized the disappointment of not bringing
in her own crop, should her father return without food. But just then a
whistle was heard outside the gate, and Ambrose Gibbons was admitted,
bowed over with a heavy sack of grain, for the Virginia supply had that
morning reached Strawberry Bank.

Soon after these events a grist-mill was established at Newichewannock,
and gardens became a matter of more careful consideration.

THE FUR TRADE

The winter had passed since Rebecca Gibbons had traded her corn crop for
a beaver skin. That piece of fur had become a much-beloved treasure to
Becky. It covered her rag dolls in the daytime and served her as a
blanket many a cold night.

The winter had been a rough one, filled with severe hardships. In spite
of their knowledge of New England winters, even the Indians in their
encampment close at hand suffered. Hostile tribes had at times surrounded
the house a hundred strong. Added to these troubles there was a great
scarcity of provisions, so that a longing for warmer days was coupled
with an anxious hope for the returning English vessel. Supplies of all
kinds were sadly needed.

One cold raw day in May, Rebecca wandered into the woods to gather early
spring flowers. She suddenly realized that, in spite of her usual care,
she had strayed beyond the sound of the buzzing mill. Searching in vain
for a familiar spot, she at last shouted for help. No sound was heard in
reply. She dropped to the ground, frightened by the thought of the many
awful things that might happen. Was that a shadow at her feet? She
started suddenly to find standing behind her a silent Indian sq