Aunt Polly picked up Dot, wet as she was, and started back to the house. Meg followed to help find clean dry clothes.

Jud looked at Twaddles and Bobby queerly.

"Just what were you doing?" he asked in a different voice than they had ever heard from easygoing, good-natured Jud. "What's that in the barrel?"

"We were helping Dot," said Bobby. "She got juice all on her dress, and, honest, she's worn eleven this week. So we thought we ought to wash this one."

"I see," replied Jud slowly. "Do you know you've spoiled a barrel of soft rain water that's worth considerable? To say nothing of soap."

"We used the green soap we found on the beam," put in Twaddles.

"You perfect imps!" groaned poor Jud. "That's my harness soap. I don't see how your town gets along with all four of you the year around.

Well, you can just help me bail out this water--that's flat. Wring out that pesky wash and spread it on the gra.s.s to dry. Then each of you take one of those lard pails, and set to work."

CHAPTER XII

UP ON THE MOUNTAIN

Two subdued little boys went in to dinner that noon. Afterward Aunt Polly announced that she was going over to town.

"I have to drive Nelly Bly," she told them, "and as I couldn't take but one, I don't think it is fair to take any of you. As soon as the car is fixed, we'll have a long drive."

Jud had taken the automobile over to the one garage the week before and it was not ready yet.

"Now try to amuse yourselves and don't get into mischief," cautioned Aunt Polly, as Jud brought Nelly Bly and the buggy to the door. "I'm sorry I have to leave you when Linda is away, but you'll be all right.

Jud will be within call, and I'll be back about five. I'm going to pick up Linda and bring her back."

"What are you going to do, Jud?" asked Dot, as Aunt Polly drove out of the gate. Dot was in a clean dry dress and none the worse for her ducking.

"Can't we help you?" asked Meg kindly.

"Now look here," Jud said, in his pleasant, slow voice. "I'm going to be all-fired busy in the back garden. If anything frightens you, sing out and I'll hear you. If you want to talk to any one, go down to the house, and Mother will listen to you. But please don't bother me."

"But what'll we do?" persisted Bobby.

Jud pointed to the tent that had been Father Blossom's surprise.

"Play Indians, why don't you?" he suggested. "Don't believe you've had those clothes on three times since you got 'em. If any one had sent me a tent when I was a kid, you couldn't have kept me from playing with it."

"We might as well play Indian," said Meg, when Jud had gone off to his garden, whistling. "Dot and I'll put on our suits and you and Twaddles wear yours. I wish I had a tomahawk."

"Girl Indians don't have 'em," said Bobby flatly.

"Well, they ought to," declared Meg. "Doesn't Dot look cunning in her suit?"

"Heap big Injun chief," announced Bobby, prancing about in his suit.

"Let's get captives and hide them in the tent," suggested Meg, who usually did most of the planning for their games.

"Where'll we get 'em?" asked Bobby doubtfully. "Jud's bigger than we are."

"No, we can't capture Jud," agreed Meg.

"Wow! wow! Whoop!" shouted Twaddles, tumbling down the steps and giving his best Indian yell as he came.

"Ducks and chickens might be captives," said Meg slowly, frowning at the interruption of Twaddles.

Ordinarily Meg was a good little girl and not given to mischief, but a spice of naughtiness seemed to be in all the four little Blossoms on this unfortunate day.

"Let's get the ducks, first," said Bobby. "That's a great idea, Meg.

Come on, Twaddles, we have to capture the ducks."

They found the beautiful white birds swimming lazily about the artificial duck pond in the chicken yard, and they didn't seem to want to be captured at all. The children finally succeeded in driving them, twenty of them, that is, into the tent.

"Somebody will have to stay and see they don't come out when we get the chickens," said Meg. "Dot's too little--she'll let 'em out. I'll do it, if you'll stay when we get the chickens in, and let me capture the turkeys, Bobby."

Bobby a.s.sented, and Meg stayed behind at the tent while Dot, Twaddles and Bobby went after the chickens.

If you have ever tried to drive a hen into a certain place, you will know how very stupid she can be. The children were hot and cross before they had twenty-eight white leghorn hens penned in the tent with the ducks.

"They make an awful lot of noise," said Bobby nervously. "Jud will hear them."

"As soon as they find it's dark they'll think it's night," answered Meg comfortably. "Now I'm going after turkeys."

But the only turkey she could find was the lame one that lived in the chicken yard and was tame enough to allow herself to be picked up.

"Aren't they good and quiet?" said Meg with satisfaction, as she poked the patient turkey hen through the tent flaps and heard the soft mutterings of the ducks and hens, who thought it was night and time to go to sleep.

Just as the Indians had the last captive snugly fastened in, Peter, with Terry harnessed to the "market wagon," a light wagon that was used to take the b.u.t.ter and eggs over to town in, came down the drive from the barn.

"Whoa!" said Peter to Terry.

"Oh, Mr. Peter!" The four little Blossoms rushed out to greet him.

"Where are you going? Can't we go? Where's Jerry?"

Peter surveyed the four Indians gravely.

"Well, as I'm going up in the mountain, I guess we won't meet any one who'll be scared to death," he said slowly. "So I don't know but perhaps you might hop in. Jerry? I left him in the stable. This wagon goes with one horse."

As the children scrambled in, Peter thought of something.

"Like as not Miss Polly'll be back before we are," he observed. "She might miss all four of you if no one's about. Jud!"

"Here!" shouted Jud from the back garden.