cealed. Sometimes the bees had filled the cavities of
the tree so full that they were forced to desert it and find new
quarters; but it was evident that here they were very busy indeed.

"They will have to be smoked out," decided Rebby, who had often heard
her father tell of the way in which such stores were captured. "I wish I
could do it, and get some honey for dinner," she exclaimed aloud.

"Well, why not?" she heard someone say from behind her, and she turned
quickly to find Paul Foster, looking so much like an Indian boy in his
fringed leggins and feathered cap that it made her jump quickly.

Paul laughed at her surprise.

"I came up-stream in my canoe after salmon," he explained, "and I have
speared three beauties; I saw you from across the stream, so I paddled
over. You've made a great find," and he nodded toward the old stump.

"Could we smoke out the bees and get some honey, Paul?" Rebby asked
eagerly. She and Paul were nearly of an age, and Paul was a friendly
boy, always ready to make bows and arrows or toy boats for his little
sister and her girl playmates.

"I don't see why not," he responded, as if smoking out a hive of wild
bees was a very usual undertaking; "but I haven't a flint and steel," he
added.

"I have, in my basket," declared Rebecca; and in a few minutes Paul and
Rebecca had gathered a mass of sticks and grass, heaping it a short
distance from the stump.

"Mustn't get a blaze, only a heavy smoke," said Paul as he struck the
flint and steel together, and carefully sheltered the spark which the
dry grass instantly caught.

At the sight of the smoke Mr. Weston came running from the mill, and
with his assistance the bees were speedily disposed of.

The old stump proved well filled with honey.

"I have a bucket in my canoe," said Paul, and it was decided to fill the
bucket and take home all it would hold, and to return the next day in
Paul's canoe with tubs for the rest of the honey.

Paul insisted that Mr. Weston should accept one of his fine salmon to
broil for their midday meal, and then Rebby exclaimed:

"Where is Danna? She went to the mill after wood before we found the
honey-tree, and she isn't back yet."

"Oh! She is probably playing that she is an explorer on a journey to the
South Seas," laughed Mr. Weston. "I will go after her," and he started
off toward the mill, while Rebecca added wood to the fire, and Paul
prepared the salmon to broil.

Mr. Weston called "Danna!" rep