Part 6

The day after the Fourth of July was clean-up day, and Billy and Davey cleaned the yard. The lawn was littered with scraps of firecrackers, and Davey always stopped to examine them in the hopes that he would find a good one. Butch hopped along with them, making a general nuisance of himself. When, at last, a bushel of scrap had been collected, he delved into the basket and came up with an armful. Davey and Bill yelled and chased him, which only made matters worse. He wove an elaborate pattern all over the lawn, leaving a trail behind him like Hansel and Gretel. When the last confetti like bit had been strewn, he climbed a tree, and sat just out of reach of his pursuers. Davey shook a rake at him and Bill scolded, but no one could ever be angry at Butch for long, because at the first sound of an angry voice he would rise up and put both tiny paws over his heart. Pleading, with his head to one side, he looked so forlorn that even the hardest heart would soften toward him.

Dr. Cordes stopped by about eleven o’clock that morning to have a look at the boy who fell off the roof. James was sitting up in bed playing with his stamp album.

“Why, boy,” exclaimed the doctor, tapping him all over. “You must be made of rubber. You’re all right. There isn’t a thing the matter with you.”

Turning to Mom he said, “Keep him in bed for a day or two on a light diet, and we’ll keep that arm in a sling, but otherwise there isn’t anything for me to do around here.” He snapped his bag shut and gave James a piece of gum. He tapped the pockets of his vest. “Black Jack for the boys,” he said, “and Juicy Fruit for the girls. I always carry it with me.” He took off his spectacles and polished them with a very clean handkerchief.

“I have something in the back seat of my car that these children might like.” His eyes ran around the room at the expectant faces. “But only if they’ve been very good.”

“We’ve been good! We’ve been good!”

He put his spectacles back on and said: “Very well then, if you’ve been good. Come along out to the car with me and we’ll have a look.” Davey and Jane and Bill ran out with him, and James twitched with impatience.

“Oh, Mom,” he said. “What do you think it will be? A watermelon?”

Mom straightened his bed and thumped his pillow. “My poor starving son,” she said, “don’t you ever think of anything but food?”

The doctor’s car started away, and the three children came down the steps toward the house. Janie had something in her apron. She was holding it tenderly, like a little cradle. The boys held the door for her, and she walked to James’s bed slowly, and carefully laid in his lap two of the prettiest little baby rabbits that you ever saw. One was black and one was white.

James squealed and reached out to stroke them with his good hand. “Oh,” he said. “Aren’t they cute? Where did Dr. Cordes get them?”

“From one of his patients,” Jane said, “a lady out in the country who raises them.”

“They’re Flemish Giants,” said Bill impressively. “They grow to be as big as a dog. I saw some once at the State Fair. They’re the biggest rabbits in the whole world.”

Janie looked at the little mites on the bed. “They’ll have to eat a lot of carrots and clover before they get that big,” she said. “What shall we call them?”

They thought and thought. “Let’s call them Tar Baby and Snow White,” said Jane.

“Those are sissy names,” said Bill. “Let’s call them King and Queen.”

James cocked his head to one side and studied them as if to draw inspiration from the way they wiggled their ears. “Queen is all right for the white one,” he said, “but the little black fellow doesn’t look like a king to me. He looks scared stiff.”

And, somehow, in spite of all the efforts to give him a high sounding name, he remained Blackie to the end of his days.

Jane felt ambitious. “Come on Bill,” she said. “Let’s build a hutch for them in back of the garage.”

“Oh, no,” said James. “They’re so little and lonesome. Let’s keep them here in the cottage. They’re just babies yet.”

Mom compromised by saying that they could start building the hutch right away, but while James had to lie in bed, he could have them for a short while each day.

“But don’t let Butchie get his hands on them,” she warned. “My, my, what’s this house coming to? Grandma has her canary, and Billy is always having bumble bees standing around in fruit jars. Davey has Butch, and now a pair of rabbits. What next?”

The hutch was started right after lunch, with great pounding and sawing and running back and forth. It was a pen enclosed with chicken wire, raised about two feet off the ground, with a little box at one end for a shelter. They gathered clover industriously, and the floor of the pen was carpeted with fresh green leaves and fragrant white blossoms. Bees zoomed in and out of the chicken wire to investigate. Billy placed a crock of cool, fresh water for each rabbit, and Mom smiled.

“Don’t you think that’s a lot of food and drink for just two tiny infants?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s all right, Mom,” said Billy pulling up more clover by the roots. “They’re small now, but they really eat a lot, and they’ll grow.”

Mrs. Landry came through the gap in the hedge to see the new arrivals, and she promised Billy all her carrot tops. “When they grow up, I’ll expect the first fur coat as my share,” she added jokingly.

The air was hot and still, and there were clouds piling up in the west. Before Mom went back to the cottage she warned the children to pick up all the tools, and put them away.

“It looks like a storm,” she said. “Don’t leave any thing out that might get wet and rust.”

Billy nailed a small canvas flap to the door of the shelter, and then he wondered if he should take the rabbits down to the cottage for the night. The wind was rising and there were low growls of thunder. He looked into the shelter. They were snug and warm and dry, and they were nestled close to each other, fast asleep. He smiled. Better leave them alone, he thought. Putting the tools away, he snapped the lock on the garage door and hurried down to the front lot.

Janie met him at the door. “Hurry, Bill,” she said, “Mom said we should fasten the boat. It’s pitching around out there.”

The lake turned the color of lead, and the air that had been so warm suddenly turned cold and sharp. Lightning streaked across the sky like a whip followed by a frightening crash of thunder that seemed to make the earth shake. Mom called from the front porch: “Here comes the rain,” and they all turned to watch.

The storm was coming toward them from the northern shore of the lake, and as it advanced it flattened out the waves in its path, until finally the entire lake was a misty gray dimpled carpet. It smacked the children on their hot cheeks, and they squealed and held their arms in the air and danced around. Mom called again. “Come in,” she cried, “you’ll be struck by lightning.” They ran for the porch. The rain slashed at their bare legs and the wind slammed the door behind them.

Davey and Butch were sitting on James’ bed, and every time the thunder would roll Butchie would stick his head under the pillow. Mom got the candles out, and Grandma started to boil water for tea.

“Might as well heat it while I can,” she said. “The power will be turned off now, any minute.” As she spoke there was a sudden wild crash followed by a shuddering roar of thunder, and every light went out all the way around the lake.

“Oh well,” said Grandma, “we won’t have tea after all. We’ll have milk. I’m sure it will be better for us.”

In a few moments there was candlelight in the cottage. James ate crackers and milk out of a blue bowl, and the candle made wavering designs on the wall. The flame flickered in the draft, and James snuggled closer in his safe pillows. He imagined he was far out at sea. He was strapped to his bunk in a lunging merchantman, with a bearded pirate guarding the door, holding a great two-edged sword in his teeth.

Just then Billy opened the door, and James roared out: “Avast ye scum! Shiver me timbers and nail me mizzen mast if I don’t split ye in two!”

Billy looked startled and then he grinned. “Oh, you’ve been reading Treasure Island again. Better not let Mom catch you reading by candlelight.”

“Abe Lincoln did, and George Washington too, I betcha.”

“Well, maybe they got away with it, but you won’t.” said Bill. “Wait till I have my supper, and we’ll play rummy.”

Supper was spooky, like a Hallowe’en party. There were candles in tall hurricane lamps, and none of the food was hot. The wind howled and rattled at the windows, and the rain beat at the panes and trickled in between the sash and the sill. Whenever the lightning would brighten the sky they would run to the windows to watch the lake.

The raft leaped at its anchor like a frightened horse. Janie pulled her knees up under her chin and hugged her legs.

“I’m glad Daddy isn’t here tonight,” she said. “He always feels sorry for the raft when it’s left out there in the lake all alone during a storm.”

“Humpf,” said Grandma, as she kept right on with her knitting. “What does he want us to do? Bring it right up here on the porch with us?”

Janie giggled, but Billy looked suddenly serious. The rabbits, he thought. How were they? Supposing they were wet and cold? He glanced at Mom, but changed his mind without speaking. She wouldn’t let him go out on a night like this.

He fidgeted for a while and then got up and went into the middle bedroom. Without a flashlight it was almost impossible to find anything in the clothes closet, but by rummaging around for a while he managed to find an old leather jacket and a base ball cap. He carefully opened the window and loosened the screen and then dropped down to the terrace.

The wind grabbed him by the shoulders and twirled him around and the rain drenched him. The window had to be closed again and the screen pushed back into place before he started for the back yard.

Crouching like a prize fighter, he fought his way, step by step, up through the rock garden. Small branches and leaves were whirling along through the air, and one branch whacked him on the head as it dropped to the ground. Just as he reached the gate there came a flash of brilliant lightning that for a moment made everything seem like day. The winding black-top road looked like a rushing river, and all the trees and bushes were bent over pointing in the direction of the storm. Then it was dark again, and he started in the direction of the little cottage. The garage was just forty feet beyond, but it was so dark it seemed much farther, and just as he got there he slipped and fell full length in the grass. The force of the driving rain seemed to pin him down, and half crawling, stumbling and slipping, he made his way to the rabbit hutch. The chicken wire wall guided him to the shelter. Just then there was another flash of lightning and he saw that the canvas flap had blown off in the wind. He reached inside, and there were the little rabbits huddled together. They were soaking wet, and their hearts were thumping in fright.

“I’ll take you down to the cottage and get you warm and dry again.”

He opened the front of his jacket and tucked them inside. They snuggled up close, and he walked carefully so as not to fall and hurt them. By being very careful to watch every step, he got as far as the road, but the gutter was his downfall. Slip! Splash! Down went Billy, Blackie and Queen. The breath was almost knocked out of him, but the rabbits were safe.

Struggling to his feet, he got as far as the gate post before the next streak of lightning came hurtling down through the night. He crouched instinctively against the big stone post, and then he remembered Daddy’s warning about never leaning against a fence or a tree during a severe storm. Cows had been electrocuted because they stood near a fence or a tree when the lightning struck. Rising once more, he pulled his jacket more closely about him and shivered as he hurried down the wet and slippery steps.

Back on the terrace, he breathed easier. If he could only get in quietly, they might never have missed him. Holding the rabbits carefully with one hand, he pulled at the screen with the other. It wouldn’t budge. He tried again. The wind had blown it back into place, and there was no way of getting hold of it to loosen it again.

Then he remembered that James was reading in the bedroom next door. He hurried over and scratched on the screen. There was no response. He knocked, but the storm made so much noise that a gentle knocking could not be heard. He was handicapped by having only one hand to work with, but he managed to turn the buttons that held the screen in place. Then he pried it loose by inserting his finger in the little hole at the side and down it came, right in his face!

James was deep in a book, and he didn’t hear a thing. Even the storm raging overhead seemed far away. He sailed the Spanish Main, and the pirates were boarding his ship. Cruel, bearded men tore up and down the deck, swinging their cutlasses and searching for victims.

Just then the window was carefully raised and the wind whistled into the room, almost extinguishing the candle. James looked up in astonishment to behold a bedraggled arm on the sill. He took a deep breath and then screamed for all he was worth. His startled screams tore through the house and brought the whole family to his bedside. Mom got there first. She turned her flashlight to the open window and there stood Bill, as wet and dirty a boy as ever was seen. He carefully put one rabbit down on the foot of the bed and then he reached into his jacket and rescued the other.

“Billy Murray!” cried Mom, her voice rising. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing out there? Get into the house right this minute before you catch your death of cold.”

“No, no,” she continued, as he tried to boost himself through the window. “Come around to the door!” She ran around to the side of the house and opened the door, and Billy poured in with the rain. He was smeared with mud, and little streams ran from his hands and feet and off the tail of his jacket. Mom spluttered and ran for dry towels. Grandma heated some water on the emergency canned heat stove, so that she could make some hot lemonade for him. Almost before he knew it, the fugitive was warm and dry and clean again, and safely tucked in bed.

The storm roared on. A big branch on the poplar tree tore loose and fell to the ground with a crash. When the lightning flashed, they could see that a pool had formed in the low part of the yard.

Billy lay in bed watching Davey say his prayers when Mom came up, carrying a candle in one hand and a shoe box in the other. She came over and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Here you are, Bedivere,” she said, and she placed the shoe box beside him. He looked in and saw Blackie and Queen fast asleep on a bed of cotton batting.

“Thank you, Mom,” he grinned. “Did you call me Bedivere because I had to go to bed?”

“No,” Mom smiled. “I called you Bedivere because you braved all manner of dragons to go to the rescue of the weak and the helpless.”

“Oh,” said Billy. “You mean a knight that rides on a white horse.”

“Yes, one of King Arthur’s knights. You did a fine and brave deed tonight Billy, but do you realize that you might have been hurt out there in the storm? And besides, you almost frightened the wits out of poor James.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Billy. “I’m sorry.”

She kissed him and picked up the candle. “Billy,” she said. “Remember the weak and the helpless, and remember to use your head.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Billy again, and he said it sleepily. The candlelight went down, down, down the stairs, and Mom’s shadow walked beside her. Then it was dark, and there was only the rain on the roof and the wind under the eaves. Billy reached out and felt the little rabbits. They were quiet and warm.

“Good night, little guys,” he said, and turned over to go to sleep, but there was a small figure beside his bed.

“Billy,” whispered Davey. “Move over. I want to sleep with you. I’m scared.”

“All right,” said Billy, rolling over to make room for him. “Come on in. I’m Bedivere. I’ll protect you.”

Davey felt around cautiously. “Where are the rabbits?” he whispered.

“In a shoe box, on my dresser,” said Bill.

“Oh,” said Davey, and his disappointment was so evident, even in the dark, that Billy smiled. “I couldn’t have them right here in bed with me,” he explained. “I might roll on them and squash them.”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Davey reluctantly. “Well, good night, Bill. I guess I’ll go back to my own bed now.”

“Hey, hold on. I thought you wanted to sleep with me because you were scared.”

“Well,” Davey admitted, “it was partly that, and partly because I wanted to sleep with the rabbits.”

“Ha! Ha!” Billy laughed. “I thought so.”

“Good night, Davey.”

“Good night, Bill.”

By morning the sky was clear and bright. The ground was littered with broken branches, and sure enough, there was a sort of lagoon formed by the rain water in the low part of the front yard. “Let’s make a raft,” said Janie. “We can use some of those long planks down in front.” After breakfast they started out to play, and Grandma called them back. “You’ll get slivers in your feet if you play barefoot on those planks,” she said. “But we’ll get our shoes wet if we wear _them_,” said Jane. Grandma looked at them over the top of her glasses. “Ever hear of rubber boots?” she asked. They burrowed into the darkest corner of the clothes closet under the stairway and found some tall rubber boots that had belonged to Grandpa. They were much too large and they made a lovely squashy sound when they walked.

There were lots of interesting things to do after the storm. The violence of the wind had driven the raft several hundred yards to the west and it had to be towed back to where it belonged. Before they could get to the raft they had to bale out the boat. It was so full of water that it was almost sunk where it lay at the pier. An awning had come loose and Billy climbed up on a stepladder and tacked it back into place. The big branch that had blown off the poplar tree lay there in the yard like a fallen giant. They sat on the smaller branches and sprang up and down like on a diving board.

“Let’s pretend we’re Swiss Family Robinson,” said Jane, “and sail off on our raft.”

“That’s a corking good idea,” said Bill. “I’ll be the father and you be the mother and Davey can be our child.”

“I’ll go and get some lunch,” said Davey, always practical. He was back in no time at all with a brown paper bag full of cookies, and in the other arm he carried the shoe box cradle. “James said we could take the rabbits along,” he said joyfully, “only we shouldn’t drown ’em.”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Bill. “Let’s rig up a sail and go out and rescue the big raft with this little raft.” They found a piece of wash line to use for a tow rope and they rigged a sail with an old square of canvas that they found in the garage. They had trouble with the mast. It wasn’t fastened securely and it flopped this way and that with the weight of the canvas. Finally, with much pushing and pulling and grunting it was made secure.

The surface of the lake was calm, but there was just enough rise and fall to keep the planks awash, so they sat on cracker boxes to keep dry. “We’d better take some oars with us,” Janie said, “so that we can paddle home in case the wind fails us.” “Good idea,” said Bill, and a pair of oars were lashed down to the plank floor.

At last they were ready to start. Davey and Jane sat on the cracker box before the mast. Davey held the rabbits on his lap. Billy sat on the cracker box behind the mast with the paper bag of cookies and the coiled tow rope beside him. He manipulated the sail by pulling guide ropes one way or the other. They waved good-by to the folks on the porch as if they were leaving on an ocean cruise and then they poled their way out of the shallow water in their front yard, into Mrs. Saunders’ front yard, and then out into the open waters of the lake.

There was just enough air moving to catch the sail and they drifted along slowly in the direction of the big raft. The lake was shallow here. The ripples washed over the toes of their rubber boots and Billy sang:

“A life on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep, Where codfish wiggle their tails In an ocean two feet deep.”

They passed Ben, the handy man, on his way out to the fishing grounds. “Where you kids bound for in that contraption?” he called.

They waved their hands and shouted back at him, “We’re going to rescue our raft. It blew away in the storm last night.”

“Where’s the other one?” he wanted to know. “Where’s James?”

“He’s in bed today,” Janie shouted across the water. “He fell off the roof and sprained his arm.”

“Fell off the roof!” Ben repeated in astonishment. “Land sakes, what are you Murray kids going to try next?” He shook his head in bewilderment and rowed away.

When they reached the raft they fastened it securely to the small raft, and then they all clambered on for inspection. “Let’s bring our cracker boxes up here on the big raft,” said Billy, “and the rabbits too. It’s dry up here.”

They sat and munched cookies and viewed their surroundings. “It’s like a little island,” Janie said.

“I’m glad I’m not shipwrecked here,” said Bill. “It’s all right on a nice morning like this, but not on a night like last night.”

Getting back home wasn’t quite so simple as it seemed to be when they first thought of it. They couldn’t use the sail because what slight breeze there was, was against them. The big raft was an awkward thing to tow, and as they struggled with the problem, one of the Landry boys came pop-pop-popping along side in his motor boat.

“What are you kids trying to do now,” he inquired. And then, without waiting for an answer, he said, “Throw me a line and I’ll tow you home.” It was wonderfully simple. The motor boat led the way, then the board raft with Billy on a cracker box, and last of all the big raft with Janie sitting proudly on a cracker box in the center and Davey dragging his feet in the water at the back.

They put the big raft just where it belonged and then pop-popped into shore behind the motor boat. “Thank you, thank you,” they cried as they reached the pier. The Landry boy grinned and waved his arm. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “You can do the same for me some time when I’m ship wrecked.”

The lagoon in the front yard was beginning to dry up, so they dismantled their board raft at the pier. Mom came down to greet them.

“At the risk of being unpopular,” she said, “I’ll have to remind you to put all that stuff back where it came from.”

Janie and Bill groaned. “Can’t we do it after we eat? We’re so hungry!”

“No. Clean up right away, and then you won’t have to come back to it.”

Davey didn’t mind. “Let’s get the wheelbarrow,” he said. “We’ll load all the stuff on it, and you can push, Billy, and I’ll ride on top.”

Mom laughed at the dismay on Billy’s face, and she tousled his hair. “No, Davey,” she said. “Billy is the strong man of the family, but he isn’t St. Christopher. If each one of you will take a load back to the garage you’ll be finished in five minutes. I want you to hurry for another reason too. Lunch is ready, and Mrs. Williams sent two freezing trays of ice-cream over for James. Perhaps you could help him eat it.”

“Oh, boy,” said Billy, and he and Jane ran for the wheelbarrow. Davey was given the cracker boxes to take back to the garage, and before ten minutes were up they had finished and were gathered around the table.

_Chapter Ten_

_Janie Earns a Dollar_