,
through which she crept and discovered a small clearing so closely shut
in that it would never have been suspected.

"This is the spot for my secret," she declared and began to pull the
grass by the roots. The next day she returned with spade and rake, and
her mysterious package. It was to be a buried treasure, for here she
opened her bundle and planted in various holes the kernels of yellow
Indian corn which Samuel had given her.

"There!" she exclaimed, as she patted the loose earth. "This is to be my
own secret, till I am quite ready to tell. Then I will surprise them."

The home people were too much occupied with their own interests to give
attention to Rebecca's play-time. The Newichewannock Indians, whose
settlement was near by, were camping elsewhere for the summer, so that no
one even guessed the garden, or knew how well it was growing.

Some struggling grape vines and a few vegetables had been planted within
the palisade, but small attention had been given to them. In fact, so
little gardening had been done that the Autumn brought anxious days. No
English vessel had come in, nor had the grain from Virginia arrived in
Boston, where it was to be ground at the wind-mill and sent on to
Strawberry Bank.

The meal-chest at the Newichewannock home was almost empty, and except
for fish and game the food supply was low. The situation became serious.
Ambrose Gibbons started, one crisp fall morning, for the Bank, hoping to
obtain food of some sort. He took one man with him, while the other three
with their axes started for a distant point to fell trees, not returning
until night.

Rebecca ran off for awhile that afternoon to inspect her garden, which
was now filled with a surprising growth of ripening corn.

"It might be picked at once," she whispered to herself. "But I think I
will leave it for a big surprise. Father may not be able to get us food."

Quite elated over her splendid crop, she hastened back to the house. She
was surprised to find the gate of the palisade open and still more
astonished to see a tall figure in the kitchen.

Her frightened mother was showing the empty meal-chest to a fierce
looking Indian. Rebecca did not then know it was Rowls, the Sagamore of
the Newichewannock Camp. He had returned ahead of his people with a small
but hungry band of Indians.

"He has come for food, dearie, but I cannot make him understand that we
have nothing."

Rowls straightened himself and by motions again