OFF ON A PICNIC
While Russ swung to and fro in the mass of hay lifted by the hay fork
and was kept over the load itself there was little danger. If he fell
he would land on the hay in the wagon.
But the hay fork had to swing to one side, when high up in the air, so
the hay could be placed in the window opening into the storage mow. And
it was this part of Russ’s ride that was dangerous.
The man on the ground, who had charge of the horse that was hitched to
the pulley rope, knew nothing of what was going on above him, for the
load of hay was so large that it hid Russ and the fork from sight. But
this man heard the shout of Adam, and he called up:
“Is anything the matter?”
“No! No!” quickly answered Adam, for he feared if the horse stopped
the shock might throw Russ from his hold. “Keep on, Jake!” he called to
the hired man. “You’ll have to hoist a boy up as well as a fork full of
hay. Hold on tight there, Russ!” Adam warned the Bunker lad.
“I will,” Russ answered. He was beginning to wish that he had not taken
this dangerous ride. It was done on the impulse of the moment. He had
seen the mass of hay being lifted with the fork and he felt a desire to
go up with it—to get a ride in the air. So he made a grab almost before
he thought.
Up and up went the fork full of hay with Russ on it. Now he was swung
out and away from the wagon, and was directly over the bare ground,
thirty or forty feet below. In the barn window of the mow overhead a
man looked out.
“What’s this you’re sending me?” called this man to Adam.
“It’s Russ! Grab him when he gets near enough to you,” Adam answered.
“I will,” said the man who was “mowing away,” as the work of storing
the hay in the barn is called.
[Illustration: “NOW WATCH HER WHIZZ!” CRIED RUSS.
_Six Little Bunkers at Farmer Joel’s_. _Page 160_]
Higher and higher up went Russ, while Rose and the other little Bunkers
on the ground below gazed at him in mingled fright and envy.
“Will he fall and be killed?” asked Vi.
“No, I guess not. Oh, no! Of course not!” exclaimed Rose.
A moment later the fork load of hay with Russ clinging to it, one hand
on the lifting rope, swung within reach of the man in the mow window.
Russ was caught, pulled inside to safety, and as he sank down on the
pile of hay within the barn the man said:
“You’d better not do that again!”
“I won’t!” promised Russ, with a little shiver of fear and excitement.
Rose and the other children breathed more easily now, and Adam North,
wiping the sweat from his forehead, murmured:
“You never know what these youngsters are going to do next!”
Back to the hay field went the empty wagon, the six little Bunkers
riding on it. The trip back was not as comfortable as the one on the
load of hay had been. For the wagon was rickety and the road was rough
and jolty. But the six little Bunkers had a jolly time, just the same.
The men were working fast now, and Daddy Bunker was helping them, for
dark clouds in the west and distant muttering of thunder seemed to tell
of a coming storm, and Farmer Joel did not want his hay to get wet.
Another big load was taken to the barn, no upset happening this time.
And you may be sure Adam made certain that Russ did not cling to the
hay fork.
After three loads had been put away most of the hay was in. Scattered
about the field, however, were little piles and wisps of the
fodder—perhaps half a load in all—and this must be raked up by the big
horse rake.
“Oh, may I have a ride?” cried Laddie, when he saw the machine being
brought out from a corner of the rail fence where it had been standing.
“Yes, I’ll give you each a ride in turn,” kindly offered Adam North,
who was to drive the horse hitched to the big rake. And as Laddie had
asked first he was given the first ride, sitting on the seat beside
Adam.
The curved iron teeth of the rake gathered up a mass of hay until they
could hold no more. Then Adam “tripped” it, as the operation is called.
The teeth rose in the air and passed over the mass of hay which was
left on the ground.
Working in this way, more hay was raked up until there were several
windrows and cocks to be loaded upon the wagon. As a special favor Russ
and Rose were allowed to pitch small forkfuls of the hay on the wagon.
And when all the dried grass had been gathered up the children piled on
and rode to the barn for the last time.
“Hurray! Hurray! Hurray for the hay!” they sang most merrily.
“And it’s a good thing we got it in to-day,” said Farmer Joel, with a
chuckle, as the last forkful was raised to the mow. “For here comes the
rain!”
And down pelted the big drops. There was not much thunder and
lightning, but the rain was very hard and the storm pelted and rumbled
all night.
“It’s a good thing I got in my hay,” said Farmer Joel, as he went to
bed that night. “Now I can sleep in peace.”
For there is nothing more worrying to a farmer than to hear it rain,
knowing it is spoiling his hay. Hay, once wet, is never quite so good
as that which has not been soaked.
Though it rained all night, the sun came out the next day, and the six
little Bunkers could play about and have fun. Russ and Laddie were glad
of the storm, for the rain had made the brook higher, and water was now
for the first time running over the little dam they had made so their
water wheel could be turned.
“She’ll splash like anything now!” cried Laddie, as he and his brother
hastened down to the brook.
The water wheel was made of some flat pieces of wood fastened together
and set in a frame work. The water, spouting over the dam, fell on the
blades of the paddle wheel and turned it. On the axle of the wheel was
a small, round pulley, and around this there was a string, or a belt,
running to a small mill that the boys had made. It had taken them quite
a while to do this.
“Now watch her whizz!” cried Russ to his brothers and sisters, who had
gathered on the bank of the brook.
The water wheel was shoved back so the overflow from the dam would
strike the paddles. Around they went, turning the pulley, moving the
string belt, and also turning the wheel of the “mill.”
“Oh, isn’t that fine!” exclaimed Rose.
“Could I have a ride on it?” Mun Bun wanted to know.
“Hardly!” laughed Russ. “If you sat on it the wheel would break.”
“And you’d get all wet!” added Rose.
The six little Bunkers had much fun that day, and more good times were
ahead of them, for that evening when they made ready for bed, tired but
happy, their mother said:
“To-morrow we are going on a picnic to the woods.”
“A really, truly picnic?” Vi wanted to know.
“Of course.”
“With things to eat?” asked Russ.
“Surely,” said his mother. “Now off to bed with you! Up early, and
we’ll have a fine picnic in the woods.”
You may be sure that not one of the six little Bunkers overslept the
next day. Bright and early they were up, and soon they started for
the picnic grounds in the big hay wagon, on which some straw had been
scattered to make soft seats.
“I wonder if anything will happen to-day?” said Rose to Russ, as they
rode off with their lunches.
“What do you mean?” he inquired.
“I mean anything like an adventure.”
“Oh, maybe we’ll find a—snake!” and Russ laughed as he saw his sister
jump, for Rose did not like snakes.
“You’re a horrid boy!” she murmured.
But an adventure quite different from finding a snake happened to the
six little Bunkers.