uro and Province Town was marked by the jawbone of a whale set in the
ground by the side of a red oak stump. The path up to this landmark was
well known to all the village children; the hill was called Cormorant
Hill; and Anne had been there many times with Amanda and Amos and the
Starkweather children, and was very sure that from that place she could
find her way through Truro to Wellfleet. "I'll not rest until I get to
Kexconeoquet," decided Anne. Kexconeoquet was the Indian name for the
hill.

About half-way up the slope Anne stopped to rest under a tall pine tree.
There was a bed of soft green moss, and as she sat down she gave a
little tired sigh. "Maybe it will be morning before I get to the top of
the hill," she thought, and put "Martha Stoddard" carefully down on the
moss. "I suppose I might sleep a minute," she said drowsily, arranging
her bundle for a pillow and resting her head upon it. And a moment later
an inquisitive little squirrel noticed that there was a little girl in
a brown gingham dress fast asleep under the pine tree.

Mrs. Stoddard awoke early the next morning, and when she and Captain
Enos sat down to their simple breakfast she said:

"I hear no sound of Anne, and I'll let her sleep late this morning; when
she wakes she will tell me what happened. I woke up in the night and
thought about it, and I feel sure our little maid could not have been
all to blame. Amanda is quick to find trouble."

Uncle Enos nodded approvingly. "'Twill do her no harm to sleep," he
agreed, "and do not make up your mind that she must not go for the visit
to Brewster and Boston. I can set her across to Brewster come Tuesday.
'Twill give me a chance to get some canvas for a new jib for the sloop."

Captain Enos spoke softly, and tiptoed out of the little kitchen, and
Aunt Martha moved quietly about the house until the long summer morning
was half over; then she went softly up the stairs, and opened the door
to Anne's room. In a moment she realized what had happened: that Anne
had run away; and she lost no time in hurrying to the shore, where
Captain Enos was salting his yesterday's catch of fish and spreading
them on the "flakes"--long low frames--to dry. Captain Starkweather and
Amanda's father were near by, busy at the same work, and further along
the shore were other groups of men taking care of the "catch" of the
previous day. For the dried fish were shipped to many distant places,
and curing them was a part of the