Chapter III: Part 3

All the way to Deerpath they played White Horse. They were divided into two teams, one for each side of the road. The object was to find white horses and count them. The team with the highest score won. However, if the car passed a cemetery, the team on the same side of the road as the cemetery forfeited its entire score.

Janie was captain of one team, and Billy was captain of the other. The hunting wasn’t very good as they drove along. It seemed that all the horses were far back in the fields working. Janie had a score of 3 and Billy had 2 when they reached the top of a hill just at the outskirts of the village.

“Cemetery!” called Aunt Claire, and Billy’s team lost its score.

Janie was jubilant. “We won! We won!” she exulted. But, Grandma, buried under Davey and Butch, spied victory walking down the road toward them.

“Look what’s coming,” she cried. “Two white horses pulling a load of hay.”

“Oh yes,” said James. “But that only gives your side two, and we have three.”

“Look what’s following,” said Grandma smugly. Hitched to the rear of the load were two of the whitest horses you ever saw. There were loud cheers from Billy’s team as they pulled up in front of the village store.

Janie was patronizing. “You were just lucky,” she said. “That wouldn’t happen again in a hundred years.”

Grandma was the last to crawl out of the car. She shook out her skirts ruefully. “And to think,” she said, “that I pressed this dress just before I started out.”

They split up in groups to do the shopping. The boys made straight for the hardware store that sold fishing supplies. They didn’t buy anything very often, but they would stand for hours in wistful admiration.

The girls went to the drug store to buy picture postcards to send home to Katy’s folks, and Mom and Aunt Claire went to the grocery store.

Grandma, Davey, and Butch started off down the block to a large old-fashioned country store that sold odd lots of almost everything imaginable. You could buy anything from nuts and bolts to flowered chintz. You could buy rubber boots, embroidery cotton, lemon squeezers, and imitation Christmas trees, and sometimes they would all be piled up on one counter.

Mr. Seaman, the proprietor, remembered Grandma from other summers and welcomed her as an old friend.

“How do you do, Mrs. Murray,” he said. “How have you been all winter, and how is your son and his wife? We have a nice stock of white nurses’ oxfords that you might like.”

“No, Mr. Seaman,” said Grandma politely. “I’d like to see some oilcloth for the kitchen shelves.”

“We have that too,” he said, and led her over to the other side of the store.

David stood before a mirror and tried on winter caps such as farmers wear doing chores. They were all much too large for him, and as he discarded them, one by one, Butch would try them on his head, and then throw them on the floor. Grandma looked around and soon put a stop to their foolishness.

Mr. Seaman wrapped her packages, and they started back down the street to the drug store. If the Murrays separated in Deerpath, it was never for long. They always met by common consent at the soda fountain. Billy and James got there first, and they were sitting in a booth reading a comic book and waiting for the others. Just after Grandma walked in with David and Butch, Janie and Katherine arrived. Janie seemed disappointed.

“We’ve looked all over, and they don’t seem to have any fireworks this year.”

Billy waved his hand, as if by that gesture to banish all her difficulties. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “I know where they sell them. It’s a wayside stand on the way home. I’ll get some for you.”

“Oh good.” Janie looked relieved. “I was beginning to worry.”

Mom and Aunt Claire wandered in just then, and Mrs. Skinner came over to take their order. James had a dish of strawberry ice. Davey wanted a chocolate ice-cream cone. Billy ordered a vanilla cone with chocolate “jimmies” sprinkled all over the top. Katy had root beer and Janie had a coke. Grandma wanted root beer, and Mom and Aunt Claire had sodas.

After everyone had ordered, Davey ran over next to Mom and whispered in her ear. She nodded and gave him a penny. He took it over to the counter, and offered it to Mrs. Skinner.

“Please, Mrs. Skinner,” he said. “May I have a sucker for my monkey?”

The ride home was complicated with the addition of a great many packages. Mom seemed to have bought enough supplies to feed even the hungry Murrays for a week. The amiable little car took a deep breath and expanded to hold them all.

Billy kept a lookout for the roadside stand he remembered from the year before. “It’s just beyond the second turn in the road,” he said, “after we pass the farmhouse where we buy currants.” There it stood, just as he said. The farmer was out tacking red, white, and blue bunting to the posts as they stopped the car.

“Yes I have fireworks,” he said. “I’m just unpacking them. If you folks will wait a while, I’ll bring the packages down and you’ll be the first to make a selection.” He went back to the farmhouse, and in a short time returned with his arms full of bundles. Billy and James helped him unfasten strings, and then the beautiful and colorful display lay before them.

It was hard to choose. Billy decided upon salutes, giraffe crackers, and one Roman candle. James hunted around for his favorite brand, that came in a long narrow box. They were smaller than giraffe crackers, but they were packed much tighter, and they made a much louder explosion. Katy bought lady-crackers quickly and quietly, while David was still spreading out his pennies. Jane was torn between skyrockets, which were flamboyant and expensive, and the more conservative lady-crackers. She stood on one foot and then on the other. Finally, she bought one skyrocket and two packages of lady-crackers.

Davey came back to the car beaming. He had two packages of giraffe crackers and some pin wheels and a flower pot. He was feeling very adult.

“Goodness,” said Aunt Claire, as she looked over his assortment. “You’ll blow us to kingdom come!”

Once more they started off for home. Just as they were about to turn off the main highway, Billy leaned out of the window and shouted and waved at a passenger car. It was Hoyer, he explained, and the Byrnes twins and Johnny Engelhardt. “They’re all kids in my class,” he added. “They’re probably going out to Harwood’s.”

Everyone helped to unload the car when they reached the cottage gate. As soon as the perishable food was put away Mom sat down at the table with Grandma and Aunt Claire and began to talk over plans for the week-end holiday.

“It’s rather hard to plan exactly,” she said, “because you never know who is coming.”

“Pshaw,” said Grandma calmly. “Just have a lot. If we have fine weather, plenty of food, and good friends gathered around, the party is a success before it starts.”

“That’s right,” Mom agreed, “and that removes all my uncertainties except the weather.”

There was a pleasant prickly feeling of anticipation in the air. The children were very well behaved. Janie didn’t lose her temper, and Billy didn’t tease. James was rumored to have been seen with a dish towel in his hand after meals, and Davey trotted around like a little lamb. Even Butchie declared a short truce. He was quiet and good.

Thursday was the Fourth of July, and all day Wednesday the Murrays raked and weeded and polished and cleaned. Daddy arrived at sundown and was greeted with joy. Aunt Claire had baked homemade bread, and Mom had baked cakes. Davey had decorated the lake front with flags, and the boys were most anxious to show their father a long picnic table they had set up on the terrace. Daddy held his arms up in the air and laughed at their eagerness.

“One at a time, boys,” he said. “I’ll have to have something to eat before I start out on this tour of review. I’ve been so busy all day that I haven’t had a bite since breakfast.”

In a little while he walked around and admired everything. “You certainly have worked hard, and you’ve been very good children,” he said. “And, because you’ve been so good, I’m going to take you over to the firecracker stand and buy you some firecrackers.”

The response to this sounded like a football game, and looked like one too, for that matter. Poor Daddy was literally overwhelmed. Everyone tried to hug him at once, and he fell to the ground with them in a laughing, whirling nigger-pile.

“Hey, Mom,” he called. “Get me out of this. These kids are too much for me.” They pulled him to his feet and brushed him off. Mom waved to them as they started away. “Don’t be too long,” she said. “Remember, tomorrow is a big day.”

They were home again by eight o’clock, and in bed by nine. In spite of the excitement, they were quiet, and they soon fell asleep. When Mom came in to check up before her bed time, she smiled to see Billy fast asleep with a string tied to his wrist. It stretched across to the other side of the room, where it was securely tied to Davey’s toe. They had their firecrackers neatly stacked under their beds.

Mom called Grandma and Daddy and Aunt Claire, and they tiptoed up stairs. Daddy laughed and marveled at the plan.

“Good night, folks,” he said. “We’d better sleep while we can. Something tells me that it’s going to be noisy around here tomorrow morning.”

_Chapter Eight_

_The Fourth Was Full of Fun_

It was.

It sounded like the third day of the battle of Gettysburg. Giraffe crackers and salutes were crashing on all sides. Nigger-chasers danced across the pavement of the terrace with a staccato ticktacktoe. All over the lake people were celebrating. Flags were flying, and there was the intermittent pop and boom of firecrackers all the way from Hawk Point around to Poplar Bay.

Katy and Jane were sitting on the front steps, watching the boys. They’d put their hands over their ears and run whenever Billy would touch off a big one. James was barefooted and still wearing his pajama pants when Mom came out, and Davey wore his good trousers.

“Back in the house with you,” ordered Mom. “Get dressed and washed, and sit down to the table and eat breakfast. The company will start coming pretty soon, and I want everyone all cleaned up, and the porch cleared off before they get here.”

Breakfast was wonderful. Waffles with maple syrup and honey. Bacon curls, and melons with raspberries heaped in their scooped out centers. Grandma poured coffee out of a shining bubbling percolator, and the children had cold chocolate milk.

Butchie was having a fine time. He loved noise and excitement. He wasn’t the least bit afraid of the firecrackers, but he had seen the girls put their hands over their ears, and, mimic that he was, he imitated them.

By ten o’clock the first car load of company arrived.

“It’s Uncle George,” called Billy, “and he’s carrying a watermelon. The Davises are with him too. Here comes Grandma Davis and Dorothy and Louise. Margy and the baby came too.”

The Davises were Mom’s family. They didn’t share the Murray boys’ enthusiasm for collecting frogs, but they all played a good game of base ball, even Grandma Davis.

Janie reached joyfully for the baby, as the Davis girls emerged from the car. They had swimming suits and base ball bats and cameras and sun glasses.

Louise made a beeline for the bathhouse. “I’ve been waiting for this all week,” she announced. “I’m going to swim all day.”

Dorothy called to Billy and James. “One of the men at the office won a case of soda pop,” she said, “and he gave it to me. It’s in the trunk of the car. Would you like to help me carry it down?”

James’ eyes popped, and his voice rose to a shriek, the way it always did when he got excited:

“A case of soda pop! Great hopping catfish!... A whole case? The most I ever had at one time was the day we went to the wedding, and Uncle George gave me a whole bottle.”

Margie and Mom installed the baby in the tea cart. By removing the glass tray at the top, and lining the inner compartment with pillows, it became a fine emergency baby carriage.

“Why, I can remember when you used to sit in here,” said Mom to Katy. Margie turned to Jane. “I can remember when you used to ride in the tea cart, too. You were fat and bald and sassy.” Janie turned pink and laughed.

“Well,” she admitted. “I’m still sassy.”

The neighbors had company, too. There were three cars parked in Landry’s back lot. There must have been thirty people over at Williams. There was a badminton game and horseshoe pitching going on in their lower lot, and young folks in pretty bright clothes were sitting around on the lawn near the house. The crackling of the fireworks kept up. The sun shone bright and the breeze was cool. It was a lovely day.

Margie didn’t want to go swimming with the others, because she couldn’t leave the baby, but Janie had an idea.

“Grandma,” she said. “Why don’t you wear a big hat, and come out as far as the raft in the boat? We’d row you out, and you could hold the baby on your lap. Then Margy could swim with us, and both you and the baby would be close by and you wouldn’t miss any of the fun.”

“Why, I’d be glad to, if Margy would trust me with her baby,” exclaimed Grandma.

Margy laughed. “After all the babies you’ve held in your day? I should say I trust you.”

Everyone went swimming. They had races and they tried all sorts of stunts. The baby was very excited and happy. She squirmed and gurgled and clapped her hands. Uncle George swam over next to the boat and called up to her,

“Hi, sweetheart!”

She gave a quick lurch, and as fast as the wink of an eye, she was overboard and in the water. Grandma gasped, but Uncle George caught her firmly by the hem of her little white dress when her body was just at water level. Her arms and legs paddled as naturally as a tadpole. She splashed and squealed in her new found element.

“Anyone can see,” said Uncle George, “that she’s a cousin of the Murrays.”

Grandma Davis was afraid of getting her shoulders sunburned, and she was the first one out of the water. One by one, and two by two, the grownups followed her until only the children were left, and they were the last to leave the raft.

The baby was given a quick rubdown and some dry clothes. Then she was fed her own private lunch of mashed banana and spinach and milk, and she was put to bed for her nap.

The Hansens came, Bob and Dorothy, and their browneyed youngster. The men sat down at the lake front and talked in their deep rumbling voices. The ladies dashed about in a pleasant sort of flurry, getting the dinner ready. Grandma made coffee in the picnic coffee pot. It held two gallons of coffee. It smelled of picnics and hikes and wood fires. Janie never drank coffee, but she loved the memories of a sniff of the fat old coffee pot.

Dorothy and Louise cut cakes and shook fancy salads out of star-shaped molds. Aunt Claire sliced homemade bread and arranged some of her crisp, pungent dill pickles on a tray. Margy cut ham, and Mom opened the oven door now and then to look at a huge roasting pan full of brown baked beans. James stuck his nose against the screen door.

“Mom,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

“In just a minute, chum,” said Louise. “I’m about ready to call you in.” As soon as she called the children hurried in, picked up their heaped up plates, and took them to the terrace. Here they ate and gabbled to their hearts’ content while the grownups stayed on the porch.

After dinner James took a book and two bottles of pop and disappeared.

“I know where he is,” said Bill. “Whenever he gets it into his head that he wants to be alone, he climbs up the rain spout at the back of the cottage and lies on the roof. It’s shady there and no one can find him. Daddy always says that James is the family genius. I think he’s crazy.”

Janie laughed. “They both mean the same thing,” she said, flippantly.

David and Billy volunteered to burn all the used paper dishes, and as soon as this was done tireless Davey demanded:

“When are we going swimming?”

“You just finished eating,” Mom answered. “Not for two hours, at least.”

“Then let’s play ball.”

“Whew! Why don’t we hitch you up to a power plant? You know, Davey,” she said, “these people have just had their dinner, and they couldn’t run from one base to another if they tried. Better wait a little while.”

Not at all cast down, Davey retired to the pier and shot off firecrackers. He would light them, and then toss them into the water. Sometimes the water would put them out, but almost always he would hear a dull plop, and see a small geyser rise up at the scene of the explosion.

The Landrys were down at the lake front, watching a sailboat race, and Davey called out to them.

“Where’s Buick, Mrs. Landry? I haven’t seen him all day.”

Mrs. Landry shook her head and smiled. “Poor Buick,” she said. “He’s having a bad time of it. He’s on the floor in the farthest corner of my clothes closet with an overcoat over his head.”

“What’s the matter with him?” asked David in alarm. “Is he sick?”

“No,” said Mrs. Landry. “He’s scared to death of firecrackers.”

The ladies were sitting on the terrace, playing with the baby and admiring her tricks, when suddenly there was a scraping noise, then a shriek, and James, all whirling arms and legs, descended amongst them. What had been a peaceful family gathering turned into the wildest confusion. Dad picked him up and carried him into the cottage. He was conscious, but he was pale and shaken. His lips were blue.

“My arm,” he said. “It hurts.”

Dad felt the arm swiftly, and scrutinized it carefully.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. “But it should be, with the fall you had. Where did you come from, anyway? Were you up in the tree, or did you drop out of a passing airplane?”

“No,” said James. “I was up on the roof. It slants there at the corner, and I must have fallen asleep, and dropped off.”

“You dropped right into our laps,” said Mom. “Thank heaven you’re safe.”

Aunt Claire made a splint out of the top of a small cheese box, and they wrapped up the injured arm temporarily.

“It will be hard to find a doctor today,” Dad said. “They’re all away from their offices for the holiday. By the way, James, there seems to be some special connection between doctors and holidays for you. You were born on Easter. You had measles one Christmas, and whooping cough the next, and now you come flying off the roof on the Fourth of July.”

They tried to reach Dr. Russell, but he wasn’t in. They finally reached Dr. Cordes in Deerpath.

“From your description,” he said, “it isn’t broken. Put him to bed, and keep him quiet. I’ll drop over to see him in the morning.”

James smiled at the news, and made a small face.

Davey was relieved. “Now,” he demanded. “_Now_ can we play ball?”

Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. Grandma sat with James, and rocked and talked to him quietly. The others trooped out to the back yard for a ball game. Sides were chosen, and Uncle George bawled out, in the style of a big league umpire: “PLAY BALL!”

Grandma Davis made the first home run, and Mom sat on the side lines, fanning herself. “Count me out,” she said. “I’ve had a busy day.”

They batted and ran and stole bases, and cheered for their teammates. They grew warm and dirty, and consumed quarts of soda pop, but they had glorious fun. At six o’clock they all trooped down to the lake for a swim before supper.

James had milk toast. He still looked pale and interesting, with one arm stiff and fat in a sling.

“I know why you fell off the roof,” said Billy, peeking in the door. “I’ll bet you lost your balance because you were so full of soda pop!”

After supper Dad played the piano, and they all gathered around to sing. They sang cowboy songs: _Red River Valley_, and _Oh Bury Me Not_. They sang sentimental ballads and negro spirituals. Dad’s fingers ran easily from one familiar melody to the next. “How about the _Star Spangled Banner_,” he asked. They all joined in, even James from his bed, and the baby from the tea cart. Just as the sun sank behind the trees, he turned to Margy and played the opening bars of _Now The Day is Over_. Her sweet voice rose strong and clear. Everyone was quiet and listened to her. The birds twittered, and it was getting dark.

“That was beautiful,” said Janie. “That was the nicest song of all.”

The popping and crackling of firecrackers had been going on all day, and now that it was dark, splashes of beautifully colored light appeared in the sky on all sides.

“The skyrockets are starting,” cried Bill, and everyone ran down to the lake front to watch. James had fallen asleep, so Mom closed his door and tiptoed off.

It was a beautiful night. The sky was dark blue, and far over across the lake someone had started a bonfire. It was yellow and orange against the darkness. The children lit sparklers, and carried one in each hand as they danced like fireflies on the lawn.

One by one, Daddy would help them shoot off their skyrockets. He would fasten them to a tree, and touch the wick with a match. They held their breath as the rocket swept up, up, and up. Whee--eee--eee! Then the giant bubble would burst, and great colored stars would float upon the night.

Davey craned his neck, and held Grandma’s hand. With all his heart he wished that just one star would float down within his grasp, but they vanished like soap bubbles. Just as one fiery arc would disappear, another would take its place. There were pin wheels whirling their light from posts and trees, and now and then they could hear the swift whoosh and flare of a Roman candle. Katy and Jane lay far out on the pier and watched the display.

Gradually the night grew dark again, and the folks went back to the porch. Good nights and good-bys were said. The sleeping baby, the empty cake dishes, and the rattling pop bottles were tucked into the car, and the Davises went back to town.

Janie lay awake until it was very late. The young folks next door were dancing on their front porch. Someone played an accordion, and it was pleasant lying there in the darkness, half awake, listening. The music faded away. The dancers called out their good nights and went home. The lights went out, and the Fourth of July was almost over. Janie fell asleep.

Buick emerged from under Landry’s porch, and looked around warily. It was very quiet. The battle was over. He shook himself and stretched, and then trotted down to the lake front and lapped the cool water.

_Chapter Nine_

_Billy Battles the Storm_

The day after the Fourth of July was clean-up day, and Billy and Davey cleaned the yard. The lawn was littered with scraps of firecrackers, and Davey always stopped to examine them in the hopes that he would find a good one. Butch hopped along with them, making a general nuisance of himself. When, at last, a bushel of scrap had been collected, he delved into the basket and came up with an armful. Davey and Bill yelled and chased him, which only made matters worse. He wove an elaborate pattern all over the lawn, leaving a trail behind him like Hansel and Gretel. When the last confetti like bit had been strewn, he climbed a tree, and sat just out of reach of his pursuers. Davey shook a rake at him and Bill scolded, but no one could ever be angry at Butch for long, because at the first sound of an angry voice he would rise up and put both tiny paws over his heart. Pleading, with his head to one side, he looked so forlorn that even the hardest heart would soften toward him.

Dr. Cordes stopped by about eleven o’clock that morning to have a look at the boy who fell off the roof. James was sitting up in bed playing with his stamp album.

“Why, boy,” exclaimed the doctor, tapping him all over. “You must be made of rubber. You’re all right. There isn’t a thing the matter with you.”

Turning to Mom he said, “Keep him in bed for a day or two on a light diet, and we’ll keep that arm in a sling, but otherwise there isn’t anything for me to do around here.” He snapped his bag shut and gave James a piece of gum. He tapped the pockets of his vest. “Black Jack for the boys,” he said, “and Juicy Fruit for the girls. I always carry it with me.” He took off his spectacles and polished them with a very clean handkerchief.

“I have something in the back seat of my car that these children might like.” His eyes ran around the room at the expectant faces. “But only if they’ve been very good.”

“We’ve been good! We’ve been good!”

He put his spectacles back on and said: “Very well then, if you’ve been good. Come along out to the car with me and we’ll have a look.” Davey and Jane and Bill ran out with him, and James twitched with impatience.

“Oh, Mom,” he said. “What do you think it will be? A watermelon?”

Mom straightened his bed and thumped his pillow. “My poor starving son,” she said, “don’t you ever think of anything but food?”

The doctor’s car started away, and the three children came down the steps toward the house. Janie had something in her apron. She was holding it tenderly, like a little cradle. The boys held the door for her, and she walked to James’s bed slowly, and carefully laid in his lap two of the prettiest little baby rabbits that you ever saw. One was black and one was white.

James squealed and reached out to stroke them with his good hand. “Oh,” he said. “Aren’t they cute? Where did Dr. Cordes get them?”

“From one of his patients,” Jane said, “a lady out in the country who raises them.”

“They’re Flemish Giants,” said Bill impressively. “They grow to be as big as a dog. I saw some once at the State Fair. They’re the biggest rabbits in the whole world.”

Janie looked at the little mites on the bed. “They’ll have to eat a lot of carrots and clover before they get that big,” she said. “What shall we call them?”

They thought and thought. “Let’s call them Tar Baby and Snow White,” said Jane.

“Those are sissy names,” said Bill. “Let’s call them King and Queen.”

James cocked his head to one side and studied them as if to draw inspiration from the way they wiggled their ears. “Queen is all right for the white one,” he said, “but the little black fellow doesn’t look like a king to me. He looks scared stiff.”

And, somehow, in spite of all the efforts to give him a high sounding name, he remained Blackie to the end of his days.

Jane felt ambitious. “Come on Bill,” she said. “Let’s build a hutch for them in back of the garage.”

“Oh, no,” said James. “They’re so little and lonesome. Let’s keep them here in the cottage. They’re just babies yet.”

Mom compromised by saying that they could start building the hutch right away, but while James had to lie in bed, he could have them for a short while each day.

“But don’t let Butchie get his hands on them,” she warned. “My, my, what’s this house coming to? Grandma has her canary, and Billy is always having bumble bees standing around in fruit jars. Davey has Butch, and now a pair of rabbits. What next?”

The hutch was started right after lunch, with great pounding and sawing and running back and forth. It was a pen enclosed with chicken wire, raised about two feet off the ground, with a little box at one end for a shelter. They gathered clover industriously, and the floor of the pen was carpeted with fresh green leaves and fragrant white blossoms. Bees zoomed in and out of the chicken wire to investigate. Billy placed a crock of cool, fresh water for each rabbit, and Mom smiled.

“Don’t you think that’s a lot of food and drink for just two tiny infants?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s all right, Mom,” said Billy pulling up more clover by the roots. “They’re small now, but they really eat a lot, and they’ll grow.”

Mrs. Landry came through the gap in the hedge to see the new arrivals, and she promised Billy all her carrot tops. “When they grow up, I’ll expect the first fur coat as my share,” she added jokingly.

The air was hot and still, and there were clouds piling up in the west. Before Mom went back to the cottage she warned the children to pick up all the tools, and put them away.

“It looks like a storm,” she said. “Don’t leave any thing out that might get wet and rust.”

Billy nailed a small canvas flap to the door of the shelter, and then he wondered if he should take the rabbits down to the cottage for the night. The wind was rising and there were low growls of thunder. He looked into the shelter. They were snug and warm and dry, and they were nestled close to each other, fast asleep. He smiled. Better leave them alone, he thought. Putting the tools away, he snapped the lock on the garage door and hurried down to the front lot.

Janie met him at the door. “Hurry, Bill,” she said, “Mom said we should fasten the boat. It’s pitching around out there.”

The lake turned the color of lead, and the air that had been so warm suddenly turned cold and sharp. Lightning streaked across the sky like a whip followed by a frightening crash of thunder that seemed to make the earth shake. Mom called from the front porch: “Here comes the rain,” and they all turned to watch.

The storm was coming toward them from the northern shore of the lake, and as it advanced it flattened out the waves in its path, until finally the entire lake was a misty gray dimpled carpet. It smacked the children on their hot cheeks, and they squealed and held their arms in the air and danced around. Mom called again. “Come in,” she cried, “you’ll be struck by lightning.” They ran for the porch. The rain slashed at their bare legs and the wind slammed the door behind them.

Davey and Butch were sitting on James’ bed, and every time the thunder would roll Butchie would stick his head under the pillow. Mom got the candles out, and Grandma started to boil water for tea.

“Might as well heat it while I can,” she said. “The power will be turned off now, any minute.” As she spoke there was a sudden wild crash followed by a shuddering roar of thunder, and every light went out all the way around the lake.

“Oh well,” said Grandma, “we won’t have tea after all. We’ll have milk. I’m sure it will be better for us.”

In a few moments there was candlelight in the cottage. James ate crackers and milk out of a blue bowl, and the candle made wavering designs on the wall. The flame flickered in the draft, and James snuggled closer in his safe pillows. He imagined he was far out at sea. He was strapped to his bunk in a lunging merchantman, with a bearded pirate guarding the door, holding a great two-edged sword in his teeth.

Just then Billy opened the door, and James roared out: “Avast ye scum! Shiver me timbers and nail me mizzen mast if I don’t split ye in two!”

Billy looked startled and then he grinned. “Oh, you’ve been reading Treasure Island again. Better not let Mom catch you reading by candlelight.”

“Abe Lincoln did, and George Washington too, I betcha.”

“Well, maybe they got away with it, but you won’t.” said Bill. “Wait till I have my supper, and we’ll play rummy.”

Supper was spooky, like a Hallowe’en party. There were candles in tall hurricane lamps, and none of the food was hot. The wind howled and rattled at the windows, and the rain beat at the panes and trickled in between the sash and the sill. Whenever the lightning would brighten the sky they would run to the windows to watch the lake.

The raft leaped at its anchor like a frightened horse. Janie pulled her knees up under her chin and hugged her legs.

“I’m glad Daddy isn’t here tonight,” she said. “He always feels sorry for the raft when it’s left out there in the lake all alone during a storm.”

“Humpf,” said Grandma, as she kept right on with her knitting. “What does he want us to do? Bring it right up here on the porch with us?”

Janie giggled, but Billy looked suddenly serious. The rabbits, he thought. How were they? Supposing they were wet and cold? He glanced at Mom, but changed his mind without speaking. She wouldn’t let him go out on a night like this.

He fidgeted for a while and then got up and went into the middle bedroom. Without a flashlight it was almost impossible to find anything in the clothes closet, but by rummaging around for a while he managed to find an old leather jacket and a base ball cap. He carefully opened the window and loosened the screen and then dropped down to the terrace.

The wind grabbed him by the shoulders and twirled him around and the rain drenched him. The window had to be closed again and the screen pushed back into place before he started for the back yard.

Crouching like a prize fighter, he fought his way, step by step, up through the rock garden. Small branches and leaves were whirling along through the air, and one branch whacked him on the head as it dropped to the ground. Just as he reached the gate there came a flash of brilliant lightning that for a moment made everything seem like day. The winding black-top road looked like a rushing river, and all the trees and bushes were bent over pointing in the direction of the storm. Then it was dark again, and he started in the direction of the little cottage. The garage was just forty feet beyond, but it was so dark it seemed much farther, and just as he got there he slipped and fell full length in the grass. The force of the driving rain seemed to pin him down, and half crawling, stumbling and slipping, he made his way to the rabbit hutch. The chicken wire wall guided him to the shelter. Just then there was another flash of lightning and he saw that the canvas flap had blown off in the wind. He reached inside, and there were the little rabbits huddled together. They were soaking wet, and their hearts were thumping in fright.

“I’ll take you down to the cottage and get you warm and dry again.”

He opened the front of his jacket and tucked them inside. They snuggled up close, and he walked carefully so as not to fall and hurt them. By being very careful to watch every step, he got as far as the road, but the gutter was his downfall. Slip! Splash! Down went Billy, Blackie and Queen. The breath was almost knocked out of him, but the rabbits were safe.

Struggling to his feet, he got as far as the gate post before the next streak of lightning came hurtling down through the night. He crouched instinctively against the big stone post, and then he remembered Daddy’s warning about never leaning against a fence or a tree during a severe storm. Cows had been electrocuted because they stood near a fence or a tree when the lightning struck. Rising once more, he pulled his jacket more closely about him and shivered as he hurried down the wet and slippery steps.

Back on the terrace, he breathed easier. If he could only get in quietly, they might never have missed him. Holding the rabbits carefully with one hand, he pulled at the screen with the other. It wouldn’t budge. He tried again. The wind had blown it back into place, and there was no way of getting hold of it to loosen it again.

Then he remembered that James was reading in the bedroom next door. He hurried over and scratched on the screen. There was no response. He knocked, but the storm made so much noise that a gentle knocking could not be heard. He was handicapped by having only one hand to work with, but he managed to turn the buttons that held the screen in place. Then he pried it loose by inserting his finger in the little hole at the side and down it came, right in his face!

James was deep in a book, and he didn’t hear a thing. Even the storm raging overhead seemed far away. He sailed the Spanish Main, and the pirates were boarding his ship. Cruel, bearded men tore up and down the deck, swinging their cutlasses and searching for victims.

Just then the window was carefully raised and the wind whistled into the room, almost extinguishing the candle. James looked up in astonishment to behold a bedraggled arm on the sill. He took a deep breath and then screamed for all he was worth. His startled screams tore through the house and brought the whole family to his bedside. Mom got there first. She turned her flashlight to the open window and there stood Bill, as wet and dirty a boy as ever was seen. He carefully put one rabbit down on the foot of the bed and then he reached into his jacket and rescued the other.

“Billy Murray!” cried Mom, her voice rising. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing out there? Get into the house right this minute before you catch your death of cold.”

“No, no,” she continued, as he tried to boost himself through the window. “Come around to the door!” She ran around to the side of the house and opened the door, and Billy poured in with the rain. He was smeared with mud, and little streams ran from his hands and feet and off the tail of his jacket. Mom spluttered and ran for dry towels. Grandma heated some water on the emergency canned heat stove, so that she could make some hot lemonade for him. Almost before he knew it, the fugitive was warm and dry and clean again, and safely tucked in bed.

The storm roared on. A big branch on the poplar tree tore loose and fell to the ground with a crash. When the lightning flashed, they could see that a pool had formed in the low part of the yard.

Billy lay in bed watching Davey say his prayers when Mom came up, carrying a candle in one hand and a shoe box in the other. She came over and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Here you are, Bedivere,” she said, and she placed the shoe box beside him. He looked in and saw Blackie and Queen fast asleep on a bed of cotton batting.

“Thank you, Mom,” he grinned. “Did you call me Bedivere because I had to go to bed?”

“No,” Mom smiled. “I called you Bedivere because you braved all manner of dragons to go to the rescue of the weak and the helpless.”

“Oh,” said Billy. “You mean a knight that rides on a white horse.”

“Yes, one of King Arthur’s knights. You did a fine and brave deed tonight Billy, but do you realize that you might have been hurt out there in the storm? And besides, you almost frightened the wits out of poor James.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Billy. “I’m sorry.”

She kissed him and picked up the candle. “Billy,” she said. “Remember the weak and the helpless, and remember to use your head.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Billy again, and he said it sleepily. The candlelight went down, down, down the stairs, and Mom’s shadow walked beside her. Then it was dark, and there was only the rain on the roof and the wind under the eaves. Billy reached out and felt the little rabbits. They were quiet and warm.

“Good night, little guys,” he said, and turned over to go to sleep, but there was a small figure beside his bed.

“Billy,” whispered Davey. “Move over. I want to sleep with you. I’m scared.”

“All right,” said Billy, rolling over to make room for him. “Come on in. I’m Bedivere. I’ll protect you.”

Davey felt around cautiously. “Where are the rabbits?” he whispered.

“In a shoe box, on my dresser,” said Bill.

“Oh,” said Davey, and his disappointment was so evident, even in the dark, that Billy smiled. “I couldn’t have them right here in bed with me,” he explained. “I might roll on them and squash them.”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Davey reluctantly. “Well, good night, Bill. I guess I’ll go back to my own bed now.”

“Hey, hold on. I thought you wanted to sleep with me because you were scared.”

“Well,” Davey admitted, “it was partly that, and partly because I wanted to sleep with the rabbits.”

“Ha! Ha!” Billy laughed. “I thought so.”

“Good night, Davey.”

“Good night, Bill.”

By morning the sky was clear and bright. The ground was littered with broken branches, and sure enough, there was a sort of lagoon formed by the rain water in the low part of the front yard. “Let’s make a raft,” said Janie. “We can use some of those long planks down in front.” After breakfast they started out to play, and Grandma called them back. “You’ll get slivers in your feet if you play barefoot on those planks,” she said. “But we’ll get our shoes wet if we wear _them_,” said Jane. Grandma looked at them over the top of her glasses. “Ever hear of rubber boots?” she asked. They burrowed into the darkest corner of the clothes closet under the stairway and found some tall rubber boots that had belonged to Grandpa. They were much too large and they made a lovely squashy sound when they walked.

There were lots of interesting things to do after the storm. The violence of the wind had driven the raft several hundred yards to the west and it had to be towed back to where it belonged. Before they could get to the raft they had to bale out the boat. It was so full of water that it was almost sunk where it lay at the pier. An awning had come loose and Billy climbed up on a stepladder and tacked it back into place. The big branch that had blown off the poplar tree lay there in the yard like a fallen giant. They sat on the smaller branches and sprang up and down like on a diving board.

“Let’s pretend we’re Swiss Family Robinson,” said Jane, “and sail off on our raft.”

“That’s a corking good idea,” said Bill. “I’ll be the father and you be the mother and Davey can be our child.”

“I’ll go and get some lunch,” said Davey, always practical. He was back in no time at all with a brown paper bag full of cookies, and in the other arm he carried the shoe box cradle. “James said we could take the rabbits along,” he said joyfully, “only we shouldn’t drown ’em.”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Bill. “Let’s rig up a sail and go out and rescue the big raft with this little raft.” They found a piece of wash line to use for a tow rope and they rigged a sail with an old square of canvas that they found in the garage. They had trouble with the mast. It wasn’t fastened securely and it flopped this way and that with the weight of the canvas. Finally, with much pushing and pulling and grunting it was made secure.

The surface of the lake was calm, but there was just enough rise and fall to keep the planks awash, so they sat on cracker boxes to keep dry. “We’d better take some oars with us,” Janie said, “so that we can paddle home in case the wind fails us.” “Good idea,” said Bill, and a pair of oars were lashed down to the plank floor.

At last they were ready to start. Davey and Jane sat on the cracker box before the mast. Davey held the rabbits on his lap. Billy sat on the cracker box behind the mast with the paper bag of cookies and the coiled tow rope beside him. He manipulated the sail by pulling guide ropes one way or the other. They waved good-by to the folks on the porch as if they were leaving on an ocean cruise and then they poled their way out of the shallow water in their front yard, into Mrs. Saunders’ front yard, and then out into the open waters of the lake.

There was just enough air moving to catch the sail and they drifted along slowly in the direction of the big raft. The lake was shallow here. The ripples washed over the toes of their rubber boots and Billy sang:

“A life on the ocean wave,
A home on the rolling deep,
Where codfish wiggle their tails
In an ocean two feet deep.”

They passed Ben, the handy man, on his way out to the fishing grounds. “Where you kids bound for in that contraption?” he called.

They waved their hands and shouted back at him, “We’re going to rescue our raft. It blew away in the storm last night.”

“Where’s the other one?” he wanted to know. “Where’s James?”

“He’s in bed today,” Janie shouted across the water. “He fell off the roof and sprained his arm.”

“Fell off the roof!” Ben repeated in astonishment. “Land sakes, what are you Murray kids going to try next?” He shook his head in bewilderment and rowed away.

When they reached the raft they fastened it securely to the small raft, and then they all clambered on for inspection. “Let’s bring our cracker boxes up here on the big raft,” said Billy, “and the rabbits too. It’s dry up here.”

They sat and munched cookies and viewed their surroundings. “It’s like a little island,” Janie said.

“I’m glad I’m not shipwrecked here,” said Bill. “It’s all right on a nice morning like this, but not on a night like last night.”

Getting back home wasn’t quite so simple as it seemed to be when they first thought of it. They couldn’t use the sail because what slight breeze there was, was against them. The big raft was an awkward thing to tow, and as they struggled with the problem, one of the Landry boys came pop-pop-popping along side in his motor boat.

“What are you kids trying to do now,” he inquired. And then, without waiting for an answer, he said, “Throw me a line and I’ll tow you home.” It was wonderfully simple. The motor boat led the way, then the board raft with Billy on a cracker box, and last of all the big raft with Janie sitting proudly on a cracker box in the center and Davey dragging his feet in the water at the back.

They put the big raft just where it belonged and then pop-popped into shore behind the motor boat. “Thank you, thank you,” they cried as they reached the pier. The Landry boy grinned and waved his arm. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “You can do the same for me some time when I’m ship wrecked.”

The lagoon in the front yard was beginning to dry up, so they dismantled their board raft at the pier. Mom came down to greet them.

“At the risk of being unpopular,” she said, “I’ll have to remind you to put all that stuff back where it came from.”

Janie and Bill groaned. “Can’t we do it after we eat? We’re so hungry!”

“No. Clean up right away, and then you won’t have to come back to it.”

Davey didn’t mind. “Let’s get the wheelbarrow,” he said. “We’ll load all the stuff on it, and you can push, Billy, and I’ll ride on top.”

Mom laughed at the dismay on Billy’s face, and she tousled his hair. “No, Davey,” she said. “Billy is the strong man of the family, but he isn’t St. Christopher. If each one of you will take a load back to the garage you’ll be finished in five minutes. I want you to hurry for another reason too. Lunch is ready, and Mrs. Williams sent two freezing trays of ice-cream over for James. Perhaps you could help him eat it.”

“Oh, boy,” said Billy, and he and Jane ran for the wheelbarrow. Davey was given the cracker boxes to take back to the garage, and before ten minutes were up they had finished and were gathered around the table.

_Chapter Ten_

_Janie Earns a Dollar_

A fat china pig stood on Jane’s dresser. He made no jingle as she shook him. Billy and James made money cutting grass in the spring and summer, and shoveling snow in the winter. It seemed they could always earn a nickel or a dime, but Janie dearly loved an ice-cream cone or a new hair bow, and her allowance vanished almost as soon as it appeared.

“Piggy, old fellow,” she promised, patting his fat sides. “I’m going to feed you today.”

Mom was down at the farmer’s buying eggs, so Janie talked it over with Grandma.

“I suppose I could help weed Mrs. Williams’ garden like the boys do, but it does get so hot, and the mosquitoes are quite bad.”

Grandma said, “Um H’m,” and continued to knit. Janie leaned closer and confided, “You know, I made breakfasts for a while last summer, but I had to give that up. I had so much trouble waking up.”

“How about helping Aunt Claire cut green beans?”

“Oh, please! I just can’t bear to cut green beans,” wailed Jane. “I must find something more ... well ... more interesting.”

Grandma clicked her needles and said: “By the time you’re as old as I am, young lady, you’ll find that most ways of earning money are neither interesting nor easy. You’ll learn that you just grab hold of the job at hand and stick to it till it’s finished.”

Mom came in just then and Janie told her of her great poverty and her dire need. “Why I have just the thing for you, dear. I met Mrs. Peters at church last Sunday, and she said that she and her husband would like to go to the movies Saturday night if they only had someone to take care of Sammy.”

Janie’s eyes lit up. “Oh Mom, I know him. He likes me. I could take care of him easily.”

“Yes,” said her mother, carefully putting down the egg basket. “I think you could. Why don’t you run down the road and ask Mrs. Peters right now?”

“Here I go,” said Janie, with enthusiasm.

Sammy was playing in the garden when she got there. He was a dear little boy, about two and a half years old, with big brown eyes and short dark curly hair. He was delighted to see Jane and offered to give her a ride in his wheelbarrow. Jane laughed and said “Oh no, Sammy. I’m much too big for your wheelbarrow. I’d be like Goldilocks and the baby bear’s chair.”

Mrs. Peters came to the door and called “Hello” to Janie and asked her to come in. The cottage was one of the most attractive on Oak Lake, and as Janie looked around her she thought of what fun it would be to spend the evening here.