"You don't suppose we could have pa.s.sed them, do you?" Katy inquired anxiously.

"We couldn't, if they are on this side of the slough."

A few rods farther on something moved in the swamp gra.s.s. All three jumped and screamed: their nerve had been sadly weakened by the bull snake.

A squeal and chorus of grunts rea.s.sured them.

"Here they are--a lot of them. Oh, dear, I wish we'd brought the coop along so we wouldn't have to go back." Jane parted the tall gra.s.s and discovered five of the fugitives huddled together. They were much livelier than the first ones and showed symptoms of bolting if the girls approached nearer.

"I'll go back for it," said Katy. "I'll go through the short gra.s.s and I won't be afraid."

Chicken Little and Gertie watched and waited.

"Isn't that little white one with the pink ears and curly tail cunning?

I didn't suppose pigs could be so pretty."

"They are only pretty when they are weenties. As soon as they grow old enough to root in the mud, they are horrid."

When Katy returned they anch.o.r.ed the red wagon with the chicken coop and the two captured piglets as close to the slough as possible. All three crept upon the pig cache cautiously.

"Pick out which one you'll grab, for they are going to run sure,"

Chicken Little admonished.

They made a dash and each got a pig, but, alas, the two free ones made a dash also--a break for liberty worthy of an Indian. They selected routes immediately in front of, and immediately behind Chicken Little, whose attention was absorbed with trying to hold a squealing, squirming pig.

The result was disastrous to all concerned. Pig No. 1 tripped her up neatly and she sat down hastily and unexpectedly upon Pig No. 2, who gave one agonized squeal, in which the pig in her arms joined.

Fortunately, her victim did not get her whole weight or there would have been one pig the less in this vale of tears. Chicken Little squashed him down gently into some two inches of oozy mud and water. It splashed in all directions, baptizing Katy and Gertie and the fleeing pig as well as completing the ruin of Jane's pink gingham frock, fresh that morning.

The sight of her amazed and disgusted face generously decorated with mud, was too much for Katy. She giggled till the tears stood in her eyes. Chicken Little was indignant.

"I guess you wouldn't think it was so funny, if it was you," she replied with dignity. Dignity did not become her tout ensemble. Katy went off into fresh screams of mirth. Chicken Little had stood about all she could that afternoon. Her face flamed with wrath, and, gathering up the struggling pig in her arms, she hurled it at Katy, as the only missile within reach. Piggy just missed Katy's head, tumbling harmlessly into the ooze. Chicken Little was instantly remorseful, not on Katy's account but on Piggy's.

Katy was furious. She didn't say a word, but walked deliberately over to the coop, deposited her pig very gently and started toward the house.

Gertie tried to stop her, but she shook her off. Chicken Little, too angry to care what happened, relieved herself of the rest of her ill-temper.

"Go off and be hateful if you want to--a lot I care, Miss Katy Halford.

I should think you'd be ashamed to act so when you are most fifteen."

A swift retort rose to Katy's lips, but she decided it would be more impressive to remain dignifiedly silent. She stalked on. Gertie hesitated as to which of the belligerents she should follow, but finally decided in favor of the one who needed her worst. She put her pig in the coop and came to help Jane up. The latter was already ashamed of her outburst, but was far from being ready to acknowledge it. The other three pigs had not gone far and they soon had them safely in the coop.

They were debating as to whether they should give up hunting for the others, when a hail from the road brought aid and comfort. Katy had met Dr. Morton coming from the field on an errand and had told him what they were trying to do. He was delighted and surprised to see the seven rescued pigs.

"Why, Chicken Little, I didn't really suppose you were in earnest or----" Dr. Morton stopped suddenly, he had just taken a good look at his only daughter--the look was effective. He threw back his head and roared.

"Oh, if you could just see yourself, Jane!"

This was adding insult to injury and Chicken Little burst into tears.

"You can just hunt your old pigs yourself--I don't think it's nice of you to laugh when I tried so hard!"

"Come, come, I beg your pardon, but you are enough to make an owl laugh, Humbug. It was fine of you to try to rescue the pigs. You girls deserve a great deal of credit, for it is a disagreeable, muddy job. I guess I'll have to make it up to you. I'll tell you what I'll do. You may have this litter for your very own, and we'll send the little girls their share over the cost of keeping, when the pigs are sold. How will that do?"

Chicken Little was not in the mood to be easily appeased.

"Yes, but you say things are mine till you want to sell them, and then I never see the money."

This was touching a sore point. The Doctor had been a little remiss on the subject of the children's ownership of their pets. He was nettled by this accusation.

"My dear, when I say a thing I mean it. I was about to add, though, that if I give you the entire proceeds of the pigs I shall expect you to attend to feeding them until they are big enough to be turned in with the drove."

"I thought the mother fed them."

"Well, the mother pig has to be fed."

"Do you really, truly, mean it, Father?"

"Truly."

Chicken Little forgot the late unpleasantness. "Oh, goody, let's call Katy back and tell her!"

Katy was not so far away as might have been antic.i.p.ated. Her wrath was dissipating also.

Dr. Morton lingered to help them a few moments and to satisfy himself that they could not do themselves any damage that a bath and the wash tub could not repair, then left them once more to their own resources.

By four o'clock they had all but one of the missing pigs safely stowed in the coop. They were very tired and hot, and decided to save the joy of hunting for the last pig for Ernest and Sherm in the evening.

It was well they did. The wee stray would have led them a chase. He had found his way almost to the creek, and it took the boys a good hour of wading and beating the swamp gra.s.s to discover him.

Just as Chicken Little was dropping off to sleep that night, Katy roused her.

"Do you suppose we'll get as much as five dollars apiece from those pigs?"

CHAPTER VIII

A PARTY AND A PICNIC

Gertie looked wistful. d.i.c.k and Alice were going on to Denver that morning to return a month later for the little girls. All three were to drive into town with Dr. Morton to see them off. The mere thought of anyone going away made Gertie a little homesick. She went out to the chicken yard, where nine of the young prairie chickens were flourishing under the care of a much-deceived hen, who had adopted them with the mistaken notion that they were her own egg kin. The little mottled things seemed very much out of place among the domestic fowls. They were wild and shy and astonishingly fleet on their reed-like legs. Gertie loved to watch them. Two of the chicks had died the first night, and one, two days later. But the rest survived, and, in the course of time, flew away to join their wild mates.

"Dear me, I wonder what we can do next?" said Chicken Little, as they watched the train pull out with d.i.c.k waving from the rear platform.

d.i.c.k's and Alice's going seemed to have finished things, at least for the time being. Her question was answered as soon as she got home.

"Jane," said her mother, "I have just received an invitation for you and the girls that I am a little doubtful about. Ernest and Sherm are invited, too, but not to remain for the night."

"Stay all night? Where, Mother, where?"