Home > Authors Index > Laura Lee Hope > Six Little Bunkers at Uncle Fred's > This page
Six Little Bunkers at Uncle Fred's, a fiction by Laura Lee Hope |
||
Chapter 14. Mun Bun's Pie |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XIV. MUN BUN'S PIE Russ Bunker came back from the barn, dragging with him some long bean poles, an old bag that had held oats for the horses, and some pieces of rope. "Are you going to make a swing?" asked Margy. "I'm going to make something for you to ride in," answered Russ. "A carriage?" asked Laddie. "An Indian carriage," Russ answered. "One of the cowboys was telling me about 'em. The Indians fasten two poles, one on each side of a horse. Then they tie the ends of the poles that drag on the ground together with some ropes, and they stick a bag or a piece of cloth between the poles, and tie it there. "That makes a place where you can sit or lie down, or put something you want to carry. And that's where we'll put Margy." "Oh, I'll like a ride like that!" exclaimed the little girl. "I was in the kitchen with Rose, but I came out 'cause she's making a pie. I'll go back when the pie is done, and get a piece." "So'll I," added Laddie with a laugh. "I like pie!" He and Russ began to make the queer carriage in which Margy was to ride. Perhaps you may have seen them in Indian pictures. A long pole is fastened on either side of a horse, being tied to the edge of the saddle. The ends drag behind the horse on the ground, and between these poles is a platform, or a piece of bagging stretched, in which the Indian squaws and their papooses, or babies, ride. It is just like a carriage or cart, except that it has no wheels. It took Russ and Laddie longer than they thought it would to make the Indian carriage for Margy. But at last it was finished, and there, dragging behind Russ's pony, were the two long poles, and a bag was tied between them for Margy to sit on. "All aboard!" cried Laddie, when it was finished. "Hey! This isn't a ship! You don't say all aboard!" exclaimed Russ. "What do you say?" "Well, you say get in, or something like that. Not 'all aboard!' That's only for boats or maybe trains." "Well, get in, Margy," said Laddie. "Russ will ride ahead and pull you, and I'll ride behind, just as if I was another Indian. That's what we'll play--Indian!" he said. "All right," agreed Russ. "Oh, this is fun!" exclaimed Margy, when she was seated in the Indian carriage and Russ's pony was pulling her about the field. "I like it." [Illustration: MARGY WAS HAVING A NICE RIDE.] Indeed she was having a nice ride, though it was rather bumpy when the dragging poles went over stones or holes in the ground. But Margy did not mind that, for the bag seat in which she was cuddled was nice and soft. Once one of the poles, which were fastened to the pony with pieces of clothesline, came loose, and the pony walked around dragging only one, so that Margy was spilled out. But the grass was soft, and she only laughed at the accident. Russ tied the pole back again, and then he and Laddie rode around the field, Margy being dragged after them, just as, in the olden days, the real Indians used to give their squaws and papooses a ride from one part of the country to another. "I guess the ponies are tired now," said Laddie, as he noticed his walking rather slowly. "Maybe we'd better give them a rest." "I guess so," agreed Russ. "We'll let 'em rest in the shade of the tree." So they rode their ponies into the shade and left them standing there, the boys themselves running around in the grass, to "stretch their legs," as their father used to call it. "Margy's asleep," said Russ, as he got down from his pony and saw that his little sister's eyes were closed, as she lay cuddled up in the bag between the two trailing poles. "We'll let her sleep while we play tag." And so Margy slept in the Indian carriage, while Russ and Laddie raced about the big field. Then they forgot all about Margy, for they heard Rose calling to them: "Russ! Laddie! Do you want some of my pie? I baked it all myself in Bill Johnson's oven!" "Oh, her pie is done!" cried Laddie. "Come on! Let's get some!" added Russ. Then the two boys, forgetting all about Margy sleeping in the Indian carriage, ran out of the field, leaving the ponies behind them, and leaving their little sister also. "Is it a real pie?" asked Russ, as he reached the ranch house, in front of which stood Rose. "Course it is," she answered. "And has it got a crust, and things inside, like Norah makes?" Laddie wanted to know. "Course it has," declared Rose. "Come on, I'll give you some." They went out to the kitchen where Bill Johnson was busy. He greeted the boys with a laugh. "That little sister of yours is some cook!" exclaimed the cook. "She can make a pie almost as good as I can, and it took me a good many years to learn." "Let's see the pie!" demanded Russ. "Here 'tis!" exclaimed Rose. "We set it out on the window sill to cool," and she brought in what seemed like a very nice pie, indeed. And it was good, too, as the boys said after they had tasted it. True, it was made of canned peaches, but then you can't get fresh peaches on a Western ranch in early summer. Canned ones did very well. "Could I have another piece?" asked Laddie, finishing his first. "Well, a little one," said Rose. "I want to save some for Margy---- Oh, where is Margy?" she suddenly cried. "I forgot all about her, and Mother said I was to watch her! Oh, where is she?" Rose started up in alarm, but Laddie said: "Margy is all right. She came over where me and Russ--I mean, Russ and I--were riding our ponies, and we made an Indian carriage for her," and he explained what they had done. "But where is she now?" Rose demanded. "She's asleep over there," Russ said slowly, and pointed to the big field. "Let's go and get her, and we'll take her this piece of pie," proposed Laddie. "If she doesn't want it I'll eat it." "No, I will!" cried Russ. "You've had two pieces." "Margy will want it all right!" declared Rose. "She likes pie. I'm going to make another some day." Carrying Margy's piece of pie, the three little Bunkers went over to the field where the ponies had been left. On the way Russ told Rose more about the queer Indian carriage he had made. "Will it hold me?" Rose asked. "Yes, and I'll give you a ride after Margy wakes up," Russ promised. "I'll get some more poles for Laddie's pony and he can ride Vi and I'll ride you." "Oh, won't that be fun!" cried Rose. But when they reached the field where the ponies had been left a sad surprise awaited them. Neither of the two little creatures were to be seen, and there was no sign of Margy or the queer Indian carriage either. "Oh, they--they're gone!" gasped Russ. "Both ponies!" added Laddie. "And where's Margy?" asked Rose, holding the piece of pie in her hand. "She's gone, too," said Russ. "Oh, dear!" "Maybe the Indians came and took her," said Laddie. "I don't see any Indians," and Russ shook his head. "But maybe they rode off with her." "Or maybe the bad men that took Uncle Fred's cattle came and took the ponies and Margy," said Rose. "Oh, what are we going to do?" "We must tell Uncle Fred!" exclaimed Russ. "He's away off at the far end of the ranch," said Rose. "He rode over with some of the cowboys when I was making my pie." "Is Mother or Daddy back?" asked Laddie. "No, not yet," Rose answered. "Oh, dear! Mother will say it is my fault, for she told me to watch Margy, but I forgot when I was making my pie." The pie seemed to give Russ an idea. "We'll tell Bill Johnson," he said. "Bill used to be a cowboy, if he is a cook now, and he'll know how to find anybody the Indians have taken. We'll go and tell Bill Johnson." So back to the ranch house rushed the children, bursting in on Bill Johnson with an excited story about the missing ponies and Margy. "Ponies gone out of the big field, eh?" asked Bill. "Well, I expect you left the bars down, didn't you--the place where you made a hole in the fence to drive the ponies in from the corral? Did you leave the bars down?" "I guess we did," admitted Russ. "Come on with me," said Bill with a laugh. "I guess I can find the ponies for you." "But we want Margy, too!" said Rose. "Yes, I guess I can find her also." Bill Johnson led the way to the corral, where the ponies were kept, and there, among their fellows, were the two missing ones. And, best of all, the sticks were still fast to the one Russ had ridden, and Margy was just awakening and was still in her place in the bag between the poles. "Oh, Margy!" cried Rose, "I brought you some pie." "I had a nice ride," said Margy, and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Russ gave me a nice ride, and we played Indian, and I went to sleep." "Yes, and while you slept," said Bill, "the two ponies took a notion they wanted to go back with the others in the corral. So they just walked through the fence, where the bars were down, and went out, the one dragging Margy with it. It's a good thing you made the Indian carriage so good and strong, Russ, or she might have been hurt. After this don't leave ponies alone in a field with the bars down." The boys promised they wouldn't. Margy was lifted out, the poles were taken off Russ's pony and the children went back to the ranch house. Of course, Mrs. Bunker had to caution Russ and Laddie to be a little more careful when she heard the tale. The six little Bunkers had lots of fun at Uncle Fred's. Each day there was something new to see or do, and as the weather became warmer they were outdoors from morning until night. One day Margy and Mun Bun went off by themselves with the pails and shovels they had played with at the beach when they visited Cousin Tom. "Don't go too far," called their mother after them. "Don't go out of sight of the house." "We won't," they promised. "I just goin' to make mud pies down by the pond," said Mun Bun. The "pond" was a place where the creek widened out into a shallow place, only half-way to Mun Bun's knees in depth. On one shore was sand, where "pies" could be made. It was about half an hour after Mun Bun and Margy had gone to play on the shore of the creek that Margy came running back alone. "Where's Mun Bun?" her mother asked her. "He's in a mud pie and he can't get out," explained the little girl. "Come on, and get Mun Bun out of the mud pie." _ |
||