d better say!" exclaimed Helen, sharply, for she
had not the patience with the miserly miller that his niece possessed.

At the moment the back door was pushed open. Helen jumped. She feared
that Uncle Jabez had overheard her criticism.

But it was only Ben, the hired man, who thrust his face bashfully around
the edge of the door. The young people hailed him gaily, and Ruth
offered him a piece of cake.

"Thank'e, Miss Ruth," Ben said. "I can't come in. Jest came to the shed
for the oars."

"Is uncle going across the river in the punt?" asked Ruth.

"No, Miss Ruth. There's a boat adrift on the river."

"What kind of boat?" asked Tom, jumping up. "What d'you mean?"

"She's gone adrift, Mr. Tom," said Ben. "Looks like she come from one o'
them camps upstream."

"Oh! let's go and see!" cried Helen, likewise eager for something new.

Neither of the Cameron twins ever remained in one position or were
interested solely in one thing for long.

The young folk trooped out after Ben through the long, covered passage
to the rear door of the Red Mill. The water-wheel was turning and the
jar of the stones set every beam and plank in the structure to
trembling. The air was a haze of fine white particles. Uncle Jabez came
forward, as dusty and crusty an old miller as one might ever expect to
see.

He was a tall, crabbed looking man, the dust of the mill seemingly so
ground into the lines of his face that it was grey all over and one
wondered if it could ever be washed clean again. He only nodded to his
niece and her friends, seizing the oars Ben had brought with the
observation:

"Go 'tend to Gil Martin, Ben. He's waitin' for his flour. Where ye been
all this time? That boat'll drift by."

Ben knew better than to reply as he hastened to the shipping door where
Mr. Martin waited with his wagon for the sacks of flour. The miller went
to the platform on the riverside, Ruth and her friends following him.

"I see it!" cried Tom. "Can't be anybody in it for it's sailing
broadside."

Uncle Jabez put the oars in the punt and began to untie the painter.

"All the more reason we should get it," he said drily. "Salvage, ye
know."

"You mustn't go alone, Uncle Jabez," Ruth said mildly.

"Huh! why not?" snarled the old miller.

"Something might happen. If Ben can't go, I will take an oar."

He knew she was quite capable of handling the punt, even in the rapids,
so he merely growled his acquiescence. At that moment Ruth disc