Part 15 (1/2)

”How'd they do it?” demanded Tess, rather exasperated at her sister's obstinacy. Besides, the ”p.r.i.c.kles” were stinging her poor fingers, too.

”How do you suppose they could keep the little squirrels from eating the chestnuts green, then?”

”We--ell,” said Dot, thoughtfully, ”they might do like our teacher says poison ought to be kept. She read us about how dangerous it is to have poison around--and I read some in the book about it, too.”

”But chestnuts aren't poison!” cried Tess.

”They must be when they are green,” declared the smaller girl, confidently, possessing just enough knowledge of her subject to make her positive. ”Else the squirrels wouldn't have the stomach-ache. And you say they _do_.”

”I said they _might_,” denied Tess, hastily.

”Well, poison is a very dang'rous thing,” went on Dot, pleased to air her knowledge. ”It ought to be doctored at once and not allowed to run on--for _that's_ very ser'ous indeed. And we mustn't treat poison rough; it's li'ble to run into blood poison.”

”Oh!” gasped Tess, who had not had the benefits of ”easy lessons in physiology” when she was in Dot's grade, that being a new study.

”You ought to keep poison,” went on Dot, nodding her dark little head vigorously, ”in a little room under lock and key in a little bottle and the cork in so it can't get out, and hide the key and have a skeleton on the bottle and not let n.o.body go there!” and Dot came out, breathless but triumphant, with this complete and efficacious arrangement.

The bigger girls had gathered a great heap of the brown nuts before the picnic dinner was served. Neale had done something beside shake down the nuts. He had stripped off great pieces of bark from the yellow birch trees and cut them into platters and plates on which the food could be served very nicely. Neale was so resourceful, indeed, that Ruth had to acknowledge that boys really were of some account, after all.

When they sat down, Turk-fas.h.i.+on, around the tablecloth which had been spread, the oldest Corner House girl sighed, however: ”But mercy! he eats his share. Where do you suppose he puts it all, Aggie?”

”I wouldn't be unladylike enough to inquire,” returned the roguish sister, with a toss of her head. ”How dreadful you are, Ruth!”

It was a very pleasant picnic. The crisp air was exhilarating; the dry leaves rustled every time the wind breathed on them; and the tinkle of the spring made pleasant music. Squirrels chattered noisily; jays shrieked their alarm; the lazy caw of a crow was heard from a distance.

The tang of balsam was in the air and the fall haze looked blue and mysterious at the end of the aisles made by the rows of tall trees. It was after dinner that a seemingly well-beaten path attracted them, and the whole party, including Tom Jonah, started for a stroll.

The path led them to an opening in the forest where a stake-and-rider fence was all that separated them from a great rolling pasture. In the distance were the craggy hills, where great boulders cropped out and the forest was thin and straggly.

It was a narrow valley that lay before the young explorers. Directly opposite was a crag as barren as a bald head.

”Look at the cloud shadow sailing over the field,” said Ruth, contemplatively.

Her remark might have pa.s.sed without comment had not the shadow, thus mentioned, changed form and darted suddenly to one side.

”Hi!” exclaimed Neale. ”That's no cloud shadow.”

”Look! look!” squealed Tess. ”See the aeroplane!”

A flying machine had been exhibited at Milton only a few weeks before, and the aviator had done some fancy flying over the house-roofs of the town. Little wonder that Tess thought this must be another aeroplane, for the huge bird that swooped earthward cast a shadow quite as large as had the aeroplane she had seen.

”The eagle!” exclaimed Neale. ”Oh, look! look!”

The whole party--even Tom Jonah--was transfixed with wonder as they observed a huge bird sail slowly across the valley toward them and finally alight upon a bare branch of a tall, dead pine at the edge of the field. There the eagle poised for a few moments, its wings half spread, ”tip-tilting,” as Agnes said, till he had struck the right balance. Then he settled more comfortably on his perch, turned his head till his harsh beak and evil eye were aimed over his shoulder, steadily viewing something in the field below him.

The bird did not see the party of spectators at the boundary fence; but they quickly discovered the object which the bird of prey observed.

”There! Oh, look there!” gasped Agnes. ”_That thing's moving!_”