"O mother, do see how Aunt Vinnie soothes the baby!"
Indeed, it seemed as if the puny thing must have felt the flood of warmth and love from Vinnie"s heart bathing its little life.
That afternoon Rufe and Wad sawed and split the wood, and Link (with Chokie"s powerful a.s.sistance) carried it into an unfinished room behind the kitchen,--sometimes called the "back-room," and sometimes the "lumber-room,"--and corded it up against the wall. An imposing pile it was, of which the young architect was justly proud, no such sight ever having been seen in that house before.
[Ill.u.s.tration: LINK"S WOOD-PILE.]
Every ten or fifteen minutes he called Vinnie or Lill to see how the pile grew; and at last he insisted on bringing Cecie, and letting her be astonished.
Cecie was only too glad of any little diversion. She could walk with a good deal of a.s.sistance; Vinnie almost lifted the poor girl in her loving arms; Link supported her on the other side; and so they bore her to the back-room, where she leaned affectionately on Vinnie, while Link stood aside and pointed proudly at his wood-pile.
"We never could get him to bring in a stick of wood before, without teasing or scolding him," said Lill.
"This is different; there"s some fun in this," said Link. "Rufe and Wad have been at work like sixty; and we wanted to see how big a pile we could make."
All praised the performance; and Mrs. Betterson so far forgot herself as to say she felt rich now, with so much nice, dry, split wood in the house.
"But what a remark," she added immediately, turning to Vinnie, "for one of _our_ family to make!"
"I was never so proud of my brothers!" said Cecie. "If I was only well enough, how I should like to help pile up that wood!"
"Dear Cecie!" cried Vinnie, embracing her, "I wish you _were_ well enough! And I hope you will be some time."
The wood was all disposed of that afternoon, and the boys concluded that they had had a pretty good time over it.
"Now we can loaf for a whole week, and make a business of it," said Wad.
"There"s one more job that ought to be done," said Rufe. "That potato-patch. We can"t keep the pigs out of it, and it"s time the potatoes were dug."
"I s"pose so," said Wad. "Wish we had a hired man."
"It isn"t much of a job," said Rufe. "And we don"t want to be seen loafing round, now _she"s_ here."
"We can go up in the woods and loaf," said Wad.
"Don"t talk silly," said Rufe. "Come, I"ll go at the potatoes to-morrow, if you will. We"ll dig, and make Link pick "em up."
"I was going to shoot some more prairie chickens to-morrow. We"ve no other meat for dinner."
"We"ll get father to shoot them. Come, Wad, what do you say?"
Wad declined to commit himself to an enterprise requiring so large an outlay of bone and muscle. All Rufe could get from him was a promise to "sleep on the potatoes" and say what he thought of them in morning.
The next morning accordingly, before the cattle were turned out of the yard, Rufe said,--
"Shall we yoke up the steers and take the wagon down into the potato-patch? We can be as long as we please filling it."
"Yes, we may as well take it down there and leave it," Wad a.s.sented; and the steers were yoked accordingly.
Lord Betterson was not surprised to see the wagon go to the potato-patch, where he thought it might as well stay during the rest of the season, as anywhere else. But he _was_ surprised afterward to see the three boys--or perhaps we should say four, for Chokie was of the party--start off with their hoes and baskets.
"We are going to let _you_ shoot the prairie chickens this forenoon,"
said Rufe. "You"ll find the gun and ammunition all ready, in the back-room. We are going at the potatoes."
Link went ahead and pulled the tops, and afterward picked up the potatoes, filling the baskets, which his brothers helped him carry off and empty into the wagon-box; while Chokie dug holes in the black loam to his heart"s content.
"We might have had a n.o.ble crop here," said Rufe, "if it hadn"t been for the weeds and pigs. Wad, we mustn"t let the weeds get the start of us so another year. And we"ll do some repairs on the fences this fall. I"m ashamed of "em!"
CHAPTER XX.
MORE WATER THAN THEY WANTED.
A doctor from North Mills came once a week to visit Cecie and the sick mother and baby. One afternoon he brought in his chaise a saddle and bridle, which he said a young fellow would call for in a day or two. The boys laughed as they put the saddle away; they knew who the young fellow was, and they hoped he would have a chance to use it.
Snowfoot"s week was up the next forenoon; and at about ten o"clock Jack, accompanied by Lion, and carrying a double-barrelled fowling-piece, with which he had shot a brace of prairie hens by the way, walked into the Betterson door-yard.
He found the boys at the lower end of the house, with the steers and wagon.
"What"s the news?" he asked.
"The news with us is, that we"re out of rainwater," Rufe replied.
"I should think so," said Jack, looking into a dry hogshead which stood under the eaves-spout.
"It"s too much of a bother to bring all our water by the pailful. So we are going to fill these things at the river and make the steers haul "em."
There were three wash-tubs and a barrel, which the boys were putting up on the bottom boards of the wagon-box, from which the sides had been removed.
Jack was pleased with this appearance of enterprise; he also noticed with satisfaction that the yard had been cleared up since he last saw it.
He asked about Vinnie, and learned from the looks and answers the boys gave him that she was popular.
"Your saddle came yesterday," said Wad; "so I s"pose you expect to ride home."
"I feel rather inclined that way. How is our friend Peakslow?"
"Don"t know; he went to Chicago, and he hasn"t got back."
"Hasn"t got back!" said Jack, astonished. "That"s mean business!"
He smothered his vexation, however, and told the boys that he would go with them to the river, after he had spoken with Vinnie.
Entering the house, he was still more surprised at the changes which had taken place since his last visit.