val as he leaped up
to snap at Ben's feet.

"Come down and tell what you did up at the Squire's. Was he cross? Did
you have to work hard? Do you like it?" asked Bab, when the noise had
subsided.

"It's cooler up here," answered Ben, composing himself in the frame, and
fanning his hot face with a green spray broken from the tall bushes
rustling odorously all about him. "I did all sorts of jobs. The old
gentleman wasn't cross; he gave me a dime, and I like him first-rate.
But I just hate 'Carrots;' he swears at a feller, and fired a stick of
wood at me. Guess I'll pay him off when I get a chance."

Fumbling in his pocket to show the bright dime, he found the torn page,
and remembered the thirst for information which had seized him in the
morning. "Look here, tell me about this, will you? What are these chaps
up to? The ink has spoilt all but the picture and this bit of reading. I
want to know what it means. Take it to 'em, Sanch."

The dog caught the leaf as it fluttered to the ground, and carrying it
carefully in his mouth, deposited it at the feet of the little girls,
seating himself before them with an air of deep interest. Bab and Betty
picked it up and read it aloud in unison, while Ben leaned from his
perch to listen and learn.

"'When day dawned, land was visible. A pleasant land it was. There
were gay flowers, and tall trees with leaves and fruit, such as they had
never seen before. On the shore were unclad copper-colored men, gazing
with wonder at the Spanish ships. They took them for great birds, the
white sails for their wings, and the Spaniards for superior beings
brought down from heaven on their backs."

"Why, that's Columbus finding San Salvador. Don't you know about him?"
demanded Bab, as if she were one of the "superior beings," and
intimately acquainted with the immortal Christopher.

"No, I don't. Who was he any way? I s'pose that's him paddlin' ahead;
but which of the Injuns is Sam Salvindoor?" asked Ben, rather ashamed of
his ignorance, but bent on finding out now he had begun.

"My gracious! twelve years old and not know your Quackenbos!" laughed
Bab, much amused, but rather glad to find that she could teach the
"whirligig boy" something, for she considered him a remarkable creature.

"I don't care a bit for your quackin' boss, whoever he is. Tell about
this fine feller with the ships; I like him," persisted Ben.

So Bab, with frequent interruptions and hints from Betty, told the
w