The Box-Car Children, Page 2

  THE SECOND NIGHT

  The roosters crowed and the hens clucked; the farmer's wife began to getbreakfast, and the four children slept on. Dinner time came and went,and still they slept, for it must be remembered that they had been awakeand walking during the whole night. In fact, it was nearly seven o'clockin the evening when they awoke. Luckily, all the others awoke beforeBenny.

  "Can you hear me, Jess?" said Henry, speaking very low through the wallof hay.

  "Yes," answered Jess softly. "Let's make one big room of our nests."

  No sooner said than done. The boy and girl worked quickly and quietlyuntil they could see each other. They pressed the hay back firmly untilthey had made their way into Violet's little room. And then she in turngroped until she found Benny.

  "Hello, little Cinnamon!" whispered Violet playfully.

  And Benny at once made up his mind to laugh instead of cry. But laughingout loud was almost as bad, so Henry took his little brother on the haybeside him and talked to him seriously.

  "You're old enough now, Benny, to understand what I say to you. Now,listen! When I tell you to _keep still_ after this, that means you're tostop crying if you're crying, or stop laughing if you're laughing, andbe just as still as you possibly can. If you don't mind, you will be indanger. Do you understand?"

  "Don't I have to mind Jess and Violet too?" asked Benny.

  "Absolutely!" said Henry. "You have to mind us all, every one of us!"

  Benny thought a minute. "Can't I ask for what I want any more?" he said.

  "Indeed you can!" cried Jess and Henry together. "What is it you want?"

  "I'm _awful_ hungry," said Benny anxiously.

  Henry's brow cleared. "Good old Benny," he said. "We're just going tohave supper--or is it breakfast?"

  Jess drew out the fragrant loaf of bread. She cut it with Henry'sjackknife into four quarters, and she and Henry took the two crusty endsthemselves.

  "That's because we have to be the strongest, and crusts make youstrong," explained Jess.

  Violet looked at her older sister. She thought she knew why Jess tookthe crust, but she did not speak.

  "We will stay here till dark, and then we'll go on with our journey,"said Henry cheerfully.

  "I want a drink," announced Benny.

  "A drink you shall have," Henry promised, "but you'll have to wait tillit's really dark. If we should creep out to the brook now, and any onesaw us--" He did not finish his sentence, but Benny realized that hemust wait.

  He was much refreshed from his long sleep, and felt very lively. Violethad all she could do to keep him amused, even with Cinnamon Bear and hisfive brothers.

  At last Henry peeped out. It was after nine o'clock. There were lightsin the farmhouse still, but they were all upstairs.

  "We can at least get a drink now," he said. And the children creptquietly to the noisy little brook not far from the haystack.

  "Cup," said Benny.

  "No, you'll have to lie down and drink with your mouth," Jess explained.And so they did. Never did water taste so cool and delicious as it didthat night to the thirsty children.

  When they had finished drinking they jumped the brook, ran quickly overthe fields to the wall, and once more found themselves on the road.

  "If we meet any one," said Jess, "we must all crouch behind bushes untilhe has gone by."

  They walked along in the darkness with light hearts. They were no longertired or hungry. Their one thought was to get away from theirgrandfather, if possible.

  "If we can find a big town," said Violet, "won't it be better to stay inthan a little town?"

  "Why?" asked Henry, puffing up the hill.

  "Well, you see, there are so many people in a big town, nobody willnotice us--"

  "And in a little village everyone would be talking about us," finishedHenry admiringly. "You've got brains, Violet!"

  He had hardly said this, when a wagon was heard behind them in thedistance. It was coming from Middlesex. Without a word, the fourchildren sank down behind the bushes like frightened rabbits. They couldplainly hear their hearts beat. The horse trotted nearer, and thenbegan to walk up the hill.

  "If we hear nothing in Townsend," they heard a man say, "we have plainlydone our duty."

  It was the baker's voice!

  "More than our duty," said the baker's wife, "tiring out a horse withgoing a full day, from morning until night!"

  There was silence as the horse pulled the creaky wagon.

  "At least we will go on to Townsend tonight," continued the baker, "andtell them to watch out. We need not go to Intervale, for they nevercould walk so far."

  "We are well rid of them, I should say," replied his wife. "They may nothave come this way. The milkman did not see them, did he?"

  The baker's reply was lost, for the horse had reached the hilltop, wherehe broke into a canter.

  It was some minutes before the children dared to creep out of the bushesagain.

  "One thing is sure," said Henry, when he got his breath. "We will not goto Townsend."

  "And we _will_ go to Intervale," said Jess.

  With a definite goal in mind at last, the children set out again with abetter spirit. They walked until two o'clock in the morning, stoppingoften this time to rest and to drink from the horses' watering troughs.And then they came upon a fork in the road with a white signpost shiningin the moonlight.

  "Townsend, four miles; Intervale, six miles," read Henry aloud. "Any onefeel able to walk six more miles?"

  He grinned. No one had the least idea how far they had already walked.

  "We'll go that _way_ at least," said Jess finally.

  "That we will," agreed Henry, picking up his brother for a change, andcarrying him "pig-back."

  Violet went ahead. The new road was a pleasant woody one, with grassgrowing in the middle. The children could not see the grass, but theycould feel it as they walked. "Not many people pass this way, I guess,"remarked Violet. Just then she caught her toe in something and almostfell, but Jess caught her.

  The two girls stooped down to examine the obstruction.

  "Hay!" said Jess.

  "Hay!" repeated Violet.

  "Hey!" cried Henry, coming up. "What did you say?"

  "It must have fallen off somebody's load," said Jess.

  "We'll take it with us," Henry decided wisely. "Load on all you cancarry, Jess."

  "For Benny," thought Violet to herself. So the odd little party trudgedon for nearly three hours, laden with hay, until they found that theroad ended in a cart path through the woods.

  "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Jess, almost ready to cry with disappointment.

  "What's the matter?" demanded Henry in astonishment. "Isn't the woods agood place to sleep? We can't sleep in the road, you know."

  "It does seem nice and far away from people," admitted Jess, "and it'salmost morning."

  As they stood still at the entrance to the woods, they heard the rumbleof a train. It roared down the valley at a great rate and passed them onthe other side of the woods, thundering along toward the city.

  "Never mind the train, either," remarked Henry. "It isn't so _awfully_near; and even if it were, it couldn't see us."

  He set his brother down and peered into the woods. It was very warm.

  "Lizzen!" said Benny.

  "Listen!" echoed Violet.

  "More water!" Benny cried, catching his big brother by the hand.

  "It is only another brook," said Henry with a thankful heart. "He wantsa drink." The trickle of water sounded very pleasant to all the childrenas they lay down once more to drink.

  Benny was too sleepy to eat. Jess quickly found a dry spot thick withmoss between two stones. Upon this moss the three older children spreadthe hay in the shape of an oval bed. Benny tumbled into it with a greatsigh of satisfaction, while his sisters tucked the hay around him.

  "Pine needles up here, Jess," called Henry from the slope. Each of themquickly scraped together a fragrant pile for a pillow and once more laydown
to sleep, with hardly a thought of fear.

  "I only hope we won't have a thunderstorm," said Jess to herself, as sheshut her tired eyes.

  And she did not open them for a long time, although the dark gray cloudspiled higher and more thickly over the sleeping children.