to listen nervously."

"And she never saw her baby any more," murmured the Babe mournfully.

Uncle Andy snorted, disdaining to answer such a remark.

"Oh, I wish somebody would do something to that swordfish," continued
the Babe. And he wiped a tear from his nose.




CHAPTER VI

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE TREE

They were exploring the high slopes of the farther shore of
Silverwater. It had been an unusually long trip for the Babe's short
legs, and Uncle Andy had considerately called a halt, on the pretext
that it was time for a smoke. He knew that the Babe would trudge on
till he dropped in his tracks before acknowledging that he was tired.
A mossy boulder under the ethereal green shade of a silver birch
offered the kind of resting place--comfortable yet unkempt--which
appealed to Uncle Andy's taste; and there below, over a succession of
three low, wooded ridges, lay outspread the enchanting mirror of the
lake. Uncle Andy's pipe never tasted so good to him as when he could
smoke it to the accompaniment of a wide and eye-filling view.

The Babe, who had squatted himself cross-legged on the turf at the foot
of the boulder, would have appreciated that superb view also, but that