CHAPTER NINE
AT THE LAKE
I
IT was true that Samuel had taken the family by surprise; but no one thought any the less of him for it,—indeed he now commanded even more admiration than before, although his name was speedily changed to Luella-Marie.
“You see, all the animals behave so differently at the lake from what they do at home,” Eunice explained to a visitor, “that it’s not at all surprising about Sam.”
The three little bunnies were named Vaseline, Oliver Optic, and Sweetest Skipperty. Vaseline was maltese, with the most wonderful soft fur, and soft maltese eyes. Oliver was black and white, and Skipperty a small copy of his mother, as she had been at his age.Oliver was Kenneth’s rabbit, as Eunice had generously given him first choice of the three, and Kenneth took Oliver because he looked the strongest. Franklin had advised him to choose this one, as, being homely, it would be likely to live.
“I wonder what will happen next!” Mrs. Wood thought. “So far, John Alden is the only member of the family who has preserved his usual dignity.”
She spoke of him to Mrs. Lane one day, saying, “Do you know our rooster is so good, he hasn’t made me a bit of trouble since we came out here. He’s even stopped crowing in the morning, because he found it annoyed us.”
A peculiar expression upon her neighbor’s face caused her to ask quickly: “Why, doyouever hear him?”
“Well,—yes,” admitted Mrs. Lane, with a smile. “He’s in the habit of crowing under our windows on the other side of the house, from four to six every morning.”
“Good gracious!” Mrs. Wood exclaimed. “Why didn’t you mention it before? It would have been so easy to shut him up at night. This is really dreadful!”
“Well, I didn’t exactly like to complain. And we generally go to sleep afterwards.”
“Dear me!” said Mrs. Wood, “Franklin and I will build him a little house this afternoon.”
The house was a very simple affair,—only a little pointed coop, like those made for hens with chickens; but it was not so simple to get Johnny into it at night. Franklin would softly approach on his blind side, and put out one hand very softly until it nearly touched him, when the surprised fowl would give a wild skip of terror, and scurry across the yard. Then he would recover his dignity, remark, “And-a-cut-cut-cut,” flap his wing, wink his eye, and apparently forget the matter.
This would be repeated until Franklin weaned of attacks by stealth, and bore down upon him in open battle, assisted by the wholefamily. They would chase him round and round the house, going in different directions to head him off; but when finally cornered, he would duck and hop with great screeches of wrath, and slip from under their very hands.
After a few of these bed-time races, his tail feathers passed away, leaving him a fowl of unclad and forbidding appearance. People passing the house asked, “What kind of a bird is that?” But nobody seemed to know.
“Poor Johnny!” Mrs. Wood said, “why is it, Franklin, that you always catch him by the tail?”
“Why, Mother, you must remember that his tail is the last chance I ever get!”
The kittens liked to chase him in the daytime, so altogether he took plenty of exercise, and, it is to be hoped, rested well at night.
One evening, during the pursuit, he plunged headlong into a neighbor’s cesspool, and swam out a smaller bird than when he had entered. But nobody tried to catch him that night, and his crow was so hoarse the nextmorning that the Lanes thought he must have taken cold. The experience may have taught him something, for the next time that the family went out to catch him, he was nowhere to be found. And it was not until Franklin happened to fall over the chicken-coop, on his return to the house, that a mottled sob from within revealed Johnny’s whereabouts. He had given up the fight, and gone to bed by himself!
Flossy, the bantam, also developed strange ideas in her new surroundings, and persisted in going to roost every night on Mrs. Wood’s foot. Her mornings she spent in playing with the rabbits, and laying a great many little white eggs.
Because of her small size, Samuel’s baby bunnies took her for one of themselves, and invited her to join in all their games, while Skipperty became her dearest friend, and would dig holes for her with his strong little front paws. She would hunt through one hole carefully for bugs, and then start scratchingin a new place, calling Skipperty, with enticing hen-noises, to come and dig for her. The two wandered all over the cottage together,—sometimes appearing upstairs, where Eunice, kept certain cigar boxes in which she was raising beans and bananas. At least bananas had been planted, but they never came up, and something else was usually planted on top of them. One day it was carrots, and the loveliest little fuzz of green had begun to show above the earth; but that same night it was gone, and Eunice said, “It makes me feel as if I’d pretended the whole thing. Biddy, where do you s’pose it went to?”
“Well, I’m not sayin’ where it wint,” Biddy replied, “but I’m thinkin’ it’s loikly to shtay there.”
“Kenny, you didn’t touch it, did you?”
Kenneth regarded her with a scorn almost too deep for words.
“Itouch your fool old spinach? You better ask Floss and Skip about it. I saw ’em hopping downstairs this afternoon.”
“It was carrots,” Eunice explained.
“Well, it ain’tnow,” grumbled Kenneth. “You blame me for everything.”
When Eunice went out to feed the bunnies, she would call, “Finny-fin, fin, fin, fin,FIN-ny!” (the “rabbit yell”), and then there would come a leaping and jumping of white tails, from every direction. Little ears would stand up suddenly from the grass, like swift-opening flowers, and the ferns would tremble as with the rushing of many winds. John Alden always hurried to the scene, hoping every time that he might pass for a rabbit; but Eunice addressed him with contempt, as “Johnny-that-rooster-hum,” and drove him off, heedless of his reproachful squawks.
But Flossy and Skip ate together, for it was quite useless to try and separate them.
“That’s a curious friendship,” Mrs. Wood said; “I never heard of a case like it before.”
“I don’t think it’s strange at all,” Franklin said. “She respects him because he can dig, and he admires her because she can lay eggs.I’ve known lots of fellows who hadn’t half as much reason for friendship as that.”
But the greatest proof of their affection for each other came at the time of the big storm. Storms about Lake Minnetaska are sometimes terribly severe, and one day, when the heat had been intense and the darkening sky took on a green tinge, Mrs. Wood told the children to run for the cyclone cellar. This was a little cave, built under the cottage, where the family could be safe in case the cottage was blown away. In ordinary weather it served as a cool place for the milk.
The children were taught to watch for a funnel-shaped cloud, and a regular cyclone drill was arranged, so that each should do his part, and not be frightened in case the cyclone came. For Mrs. Wood said, “Being ready for an emergency doesn’t make it come any sooner.” And when at last it did come, the family was able to reach the cellar in the very shortest possible time.
Mrs. Wood took the family heirlooms,Biddy, her best bonnet, and Franklin, the dog; while Eunice and Kenneth had been cautioned not to try and save anything but themselves. Their mother had told them that the cats could stick their claws into trees, or lie down so flat that the storm would not even see them, and the rabbits would run into their holes.
When the storm broke, not a cat was in sight, but the kind-hearted Biddy found Mustard and Elijah sleeping in a box near the back door, and scooped them into her apron as she ran.
It was quite dreadful waiting there in the dark, with the shrieking of the wind above them, and crash after crash coming as things were blown down and swept away. Their cottage was not taken; but another one was, and the roof was ripped off the hotel. The piazza chairs spun by them, and were hurled over the tops of falling trees into a neighboring lot. Johnny’s house, with Johnny in it,—he had thought it was night, and gone to bed,—executed a dance before the cellar door, and thenblew into the lake. Kenneth wept, and sat down in a pan of milk. It was terrible.
But Johnny’s house was afterwards fished out from under the dock, and Johnny himself was found roosting in a tree near the bank, for his house having no floor, he had been able to grasp this branch with his firm yellow legs, and allow his roof to take a swim without him.
“I think he meant to stay there always,” Franklin said, as he climbed the tree and brought him down. “He didn’t seem to be making any plans.”
Clytie and Ivanhoe turned up towards night, with eyes quite black from excitement, and, strange to say, Ivanhoe never had another fit after that experience. Franklin said, “I suppose the cyclone was so much bigger a fit than he could ever hope to have, that it kind of discouraged him!”
The children nearly stood on their heads trying to see into the rabbit-holes, and, diving into one of them, Franklin pulled out twostruggling balls of fur, that kicked mud in every direction.
“Oh, the dear, dirty things!” said Eunice, embracing Vaseline and Oliver, until her face was well spattered from their indignant heels.
“Stamper’s all right,” said Franklin, peering into the dark passage; “I saw his nose wiggle. And there’s another one in there behind him. I guess it’s Dulcie. She’d naturally be with the youngsters.”
“Oh, Franklin, let’s hunt for Sam and Skip! They must be here, somewhere.”
“I couldn’t see anything in Sam’s hole,” Franklin said, going to the other burrow.
“Put your arm in. It can’t get any muddier than it is.”
Franklin thrust in his arm, and drew it out again with a great start.
“Snakes?” asked Eunice, turning pale.
“I don’t know. Something bit me.”
“Bit you! Oh, where?”
“I can’t find the place,” said Franklin, after examining his hand. “The mud’s too thick!”
“Then the snake must have bitten mud instead of you. But probably it’ll soak through.”
“I’m not sure ’twas a snake, anyhow. There aren’t any poisonous snakes around here.”
“Poke it,” said Eunice. “Here’s a stick. Perhaps it’ll run out.” Franklin poked; and from the hole came the outraged, but familiar squawk of Flossy the bantam.
“How in thunder did she get in there!” Franklin exclaimed, hauling her out in spite of her angry pecks. But his question was immediately answered by Skipperty, who followed devotedly in the wake of his friend. Luella-Marie’s head followed Skip’s tail, and now the whole rabbit family was accounted for.
“I think they’d have come out before,” said Franklin, “if Flossy hadn’t stopped up the hole.”
“Do you suppose Skip took her in there?”
“He must have. She’d never have thought of it herself.”
“Franklin, why do you suppose Weejums doesn’t come home?”
“Scared of the noise, I guess. She probably heard the storm hammering around, and took it for carpenters!”
“But the noise is all over now.”
“Then she’s likely to be home for supper.”
But Weejums did not come home for supper, and she did not come home that night.
“Mother,” said Franklin, after the younger children were in bed, “the ‛Worry’ ’s gone.”
“What,—not sunk, Franklin?”
“No, just gone,—cleared, off the landscape. I’m afraid she’s stolen. Some one must have taken her right after the storm, when we were all getting our breath back.”
“But you’ll be sure to find her,—you and Fred between you. We can advertise.”
“Yes, I suppose we can. There are quite a lot of things to do.”
But it was not a happy night for any one in the cottage. Eunice was wakeful onaccount of Weejums; while Kenneth dreamed of sitting in cold milk-pans, and shivered in his sleep.
Biddy dreamed that her best bonnet had been blown into the lake, with a kitten tied to each string, and woke Mrs. Wood with a whoop. Everybody was glad when morning came. And after breakfast Franklin made a strange discovery.
Two boatmen who knew the boys, stopped to say that they were passing just as the storm broke, and seeing the “Worry” being thrown against the dock, knew that she would be dashed to pieces before the storm was over. So they very courageously ran down and cut her loose, before seeking shelter for themselves. But as she was washed out into the lake, they were much astonished to see a cat creep out of the locker and run around the boat in great distress.
“Weejums, by gracious!” said Franklin. “Say, Fred, did you hear that?”
“I yelled out, ‛You’d better go below!’”said the boatman; “and Joe, he put up his hands like this, and called, ‛Reef that tail or you’ll capsize!’ But we had to run for our lives then, and I couldn’t see what the cat did next.”
“I bet you she’s safe,” said “Joe,” as Eunice hid her face on Franklin’s arm. “You won’t catch any feline getting her paws wet, when she’s got a dry locker to crawl into!”
“The first thing is to find the boat,” said Franklin, patting Eunice’s curls. “That’s a brave girl, Sis, not to cry.”
“P’r’aps she’s wrecked,” said Fred Lane, who could think about such trifles as boats, because he had never known Weejums.
“No, she ain’t!” said Franklin, fiercely. “See here, Sis, we’ll borrow a horse and ride along the shore to see if she’s beached anywhere.”
“And we’ll tell all the steamboat captains to look out for her,” added Joe.
“And me an’ Joe’ll do a little cruising around, ourselves,” said the other boatman.
“Say, you’re mighty good,” said Franklin, offering them his hand.
“We’ll never forget what you did for her,” said Fred, meaning the boat.
“You will find her, won’t you?” said Eunice, meaning the cat.
“And now for our noble steed,” said Franklin. “We’ll be lucky if it isn’t a goat.”
They hunted for some time, but at last succeeded in borrowing an ancient mule, which they both mounted, and set forth on their quest.
“Have you seen a stray boat with a cat in it?” they asked, in agonized tones, of every one whom they met, and could not understand why so many people laughed at the question.
“Was there an owl aboard too?” somebody asked, “and was the boat pea-green?”
But no one had seen or heard anything of the “Worry,” and it was not until that night, when the “Belle of Minnetaska” was due with her load of passengers, that Joe, theboatman, rushed up to the cottage in breathless haste.
“Skinner’s steam launch ‛Mehitable’ just put in next dock. Spoke ‛Belle of Minnetaska.’ Says picked up boat with cat in it. Boat in tow. Cat in ladies’ cabin.”
Even as he spoke, the nose of the great steamer rounded the point, and through the opera-glasses they could distinctly see a small, dark speck dancing along in her wake.
“To the wharf,—to the wharf!” shouted Franklin. And Mrs. Wood and Eunice and Kenneth and Biddy all tore down the road to the big hotel dock, just as the “Belle of Minnetaska,” with band playing, and flags streaming, came in.
Eunice wished to go aboard at once, but had to wait until the passengers were off; and just as she was beginning to feel that she could not stand it another minute, down the gangplank came the Captain himself, with Weejums in his arms.
“Where’s the little girl that’s lost hercat?” he asked. And all the passengers and deck hands crowded around to see Weejums restored to her family. Then “Three cheers for the little girl!” some one called, and the cheers were given with deafening enthusiasm.
“Three cheers for the Captain of the ‛Belle of Minnetaska!’” And the Captain had to bow, and take off his hat to every one.
“Three cheers for the cat!” And these were the loudest cheers of all,—so loud, indeed, that Weejums’ tail swelled out of all proportion. But nobody saw it, for, before the last cheer was over, Eunice was running swiftly towards home, with the dear lost pussy clasped tight to her little heart.
“The water took the color out of her ribbon,” she announced at supper that night; “but she’s goin’ to have a new one.”