THE PIRATE BUNGALOW
The mother of the six little Bunkers was used to having things happen to
them. She did not have half a dozen children without knowing that,
nearly every day, some one of them would fall down and bump a nose, cut
a finger, get caught in a fence, or have something like that happen to
make trouble. So, in a way, Mrs. Bunker was used to calls for help.
"But this seems different," she said to herself, as she ran along. "I'm
afraid something has happened to Rose."
And something had. As Mrs. Bunker came within sight of Russ and his
sister, where they had gone to dig their sand house, their mother saw
her oldest boy dancing about on the beach.
"Where is Rose?" called Mrs. Bunker. "What have you done with Rose?"
"I didn't do anything to her, Mother!" answered Russ. "But she's in the
sand house and she can't get out!"
Mrs. Bunker kept on running toward the children; at least toward Russ.
Rose she could not see.
"She can't get out of the sand house 'cause it fell down on her,"
explained Russ. "I tried to pull her out, but I couldn't, so I hollered
for you, Mother!"
"Something dreadful must have happened! I wish I had stopped for Daddy!"
thought Mrs. Bunker.
By this time she was close beside Russ, who was capering about like an
Indian doing a war dance. But Russ was not doing it for fun. He was just
excited, and couldn't keep still.
"Where is your sister?" asked Mrs. Bunker.
"There!" answered Russ, pointing.
Then Mrs. Bunker understood why she had not seen Rose before. It was
because the little girl was hidden behind a pile of sand. But there was
more than this the matter. For Rose was down in a hole, and the sand had
caved in on her feet and legs, covering her up almost to her waist. Rose
was held fast in a heap of sand, and, wiggle and twist though she did,
she could not get out.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" sobbed the little girl, tears streaming down her
cheeks. "I'm all fast and I can't get out!"
"I'll get you out! There! Don't cry any more," said Mrs. Bunker. "I'll
soon have you out. Get a shovel, and help me dig Rose loose," she called
to Russ.
"All right," answered the little boy. He had stopped jumping about now.
"Where are your shovels, Russ?" asked his mother, looking about for
something with which to dig.
"We didn't have any. We used big clam shells," he answered. "Here's one,
and I'll get another."
The large clam shells were pretty good to use as shovels, though Mrs.
Bunker felt that she could have worked faster with a regular one.
However, she had to do the best she could, and really the shell scooped
the sand out very well. Russ helped, and they both set to work to dig
Rose out of the hole in which she was partly buried.
"It's a good thing the sand didn't slide in on you and cover your head,"
said Mrs. Bunker. "How did it happen, Russ?"
"Well, we were digging a sand house--it was just a hole in the sand, you
know," the little boy explained. "We were going to put some sticks
across the top, when we got it deep enough to stand up in, and put some
seaweed over the sticks for a roof. I saw some boys on the beach make a
sand house like that yesterday.
"But after we dug down a way," he went on, "Rose got down in the hole so
she could dig better. She scooped the sand up to me and I put it in a
heap on the beach. And then, all of a sudden, a lot of the sand slid in
on Rose and she was held fast and--and----"
"And I couldn't get out, but I tried like anything!" added Rose, as her
brother stopped for breath. "And then Russ screamed for you
and--and--Oh, I'm so glad you came!" and Rose leaned her head against
her mother, who was busy digging out the sand with the clam shell.
"I'm glad I came, too, my dear," said Mrs. Bunker. "After this don't dig
such deep sand holes, or, if you do, don't get into them. Sand, you
know, is not like other dirt. It doesn't stay in one place, but slips
and slides about."
"But we want to have something to play in!" exclaimed Russ.
"Well, we want you to have fun while you are here at Cousin Tom's, but
we don't want you to get hurt," said Mrs. Bunker. "Can't you make a
little playhouse of the driftwood on the beach? That would be nicer to
play in than a damp hole."
"Oh, yes, we could do that!" cried Rose. "Let's make a wooden house on
the beach, Russ! There's lots of wood!"
"And then we can play pirates!" added the little boy.
A little later Rose had been dug out of the sand, and though her dress
was a little damp, for the sand, as one dug down into it, was rather
wet, she was not hurt.
All along the sands at Seaview, after high tide, were bits of planks and
boards and chips, and after Rose had been dug out of the sand house she
and Russ began gathering all the wood they could pick up to make what
Russ said would be a "pirate bungalow."
Mrs. Bunker, after telling the children once more not to dig deep holes,
left them on the beach to play, herself going back to Cousin Tom's
bungalow.
Margy and Mun Bun, who had been gathering shells and stones down on the
sand, had come up to play in front of the house, on a bit of green lawn.
Laddie and Vi, who had walked up and down the beach, looking for some
starfish, which they did not find, came to where Russ and Rose were
getting ready to play.
"What are you making?" asked Laddie.
"A pirate bungalow," answered Russ. "Want to help?"
"Yep," answered Laddie.
"And I will, too," said Vi. "What are you going to put in it? Will it be
big enough for all of us, and what makes so much wood here, Russ?"
"Now if you're going to ask a lot of questions you can't play!" said
Rose. "You just help pick up the wood, Vi."
"Can't I ask just one more question?"
"What is it?" asked Russ, smiling.
"What makes the ocean so salty?" Vi asked this time. "I got some water
on my hands and then I put my finger in my mouth and it tasted just like
I'd put too much salt on my potatoes. What makes the ocean so salty?"
"I don't know," said Russ. "We'll ask Daddy when we go up. But come on,
and let's build the bungalow. I'll be a pirate, and we'll play shipwreck
and everything."
"I'll be a pirate, too," added Laddie. "I know a good riddle about a
pirate, but I can't think of it now. Maybe I will after I've been a
pirate for a while."
"We'll be pirates, too," said Vi.
"No, girls can't be," said Russ. "You can be our prisoners. Pirates
always have prisoners."
"Prisoners? What's them?" asked Vi.
"They're what pirates have," explained Laddie. "I know, 'cause I saw
some pictures of 'em in a book. Pirates always keep their prisoners
shut up in a cave."
"I'm not going to be in a cave," said Rose. "I was in the sand house
when it caved in, and I don't like it."
"But you get good things to eat," explained Russ. "Pirates always have
to feed their prisoners good things to eat."
"Then I'll be one, 'cause I'm hungry," said Vi.
"So'll I," added Laddie. "I'll be a prisoner. I guess I'd rather be a
prisoner than a pirate, Russ. You can be the pirate and get us all good
things to eat."
"All right, I will. Now come on, we've got to get a lot more wood to
make this pirate bungalow. Get all the wood you can."
"Why don't you get some?" asked Laddie, as he saw his brother sitting
down on a pile of drift pieces that had already been gathered.