were talking about the other night? I stopped there, in Putney's Bend."
"Why, yes! It must be—Mrs. Mahna dropped out of there the other day."
"They said I'd likely find the Mahnas down here somewhere," he remarked. "Are you—Miss Mahna?"
"No," Delia shook her head, and looked across at Craighead Point. "I'm just with them."
"My name is Murdong," he told her. "Out of the upper Mississippi—from Chicago. When will they be back—the Mahna?"
"They went out to line a bee tree—whatever that is! They take some molasses and corn starch and when a bee gets on the molasses they sprinkle the starch on it. When it flies away, they follow it—that's what Mrs. Mahna said."
"Well, there's nothing special for me to see her about," Murdong said, as though he were indifferent. "Perhaps I'd better drop on down."
"I've some maps here of the river," Delia suggested. "They'll show you right where you are. Won't you come aboard? I'll bring out the maps."
Murdong pulled the skiff to the stern, climbed on to the deck, and by the time his boat was fast, the young woman had returned with a book and a chair. She brought out another chair, immediately, and they sat down to look at the river maps together.
