o their well-earned oats, pointed out two canoes, fastened to a silver
birch at the river's edge, which could be rented for the moderate sum of
ten cents apiece for the entire day.

As on all well-conducted picnics, luncheon came early, and then followed
the diversions which invariably contribute to the pleasure of such
festive occasions. The girls strolled in the woods, picked the showy,
scentless flowers, which had replaced the small, fragrant blossoms of
springtime, and took little excursions on the river, two to a canoe. The
strength of the current was something of a surprise. Ruth and Amy
floating down the stream, and barely dipping their paddles into the
water, had exclaimed over the ease of propelling the little bark. But
the attempt to return to their starting-point had proved that the
smoothly flowing water had a will of its own. The paddles were plied
vigorously, and the girls reached the birch-tree with little beads of
moisture showing at their temples, and an unusual color in their cheeks.

"Another time I'd paddle up stream and float down," exclaimed Amy,
stepping ashore, and fanning herself with her hat. "I want my hard times
at the start. But who would have supposed that there was such a current
in this lazy old river?"

Characteristically Peggy defended the reputation of the stream. "It's
not lazy a bit. Up here it winds around a good deal, but that's only its
playtime. Just a mile or two below are the falls, and I think the power
is carried quite a long way to some town for electric lights and that
sort of thing. So Snake River's really a worker."

The drowsy hour of the afternoon had arrived. The breeze which had been
so fresh in the early morning had died down. The pine-trees on the knoll
rustled softly, and the sound was as soothing as a lullaby. "I believe
I'll feel better for a nap," said Aunt Abigail, and forthwith settled
herself on a steamer rug, spread out invitingly. The suggestion proved
popular, and the younger members of the party followed her example,
except that most of them stretched out luxuriously on the pine needles,
sun-warmed and fragrant.

Dorothy looked about on the somnolent gathering with dismay. "Aunt
Peggy, I don't like sleepy picnics. I want to play tag."

"Oh, it's too hot for tag, and, besides, you always squeal so when
you're caught that it would wake everybody up. Don't you want a tiny bit
of a nap?" Either because of the force of example, or because the
languor of