They rolled over and over each
other, giggling as they wrestled, in the sheer delight of being alive on
such a day. When they finally killed a harmless little chicken-snake, no
prince of the royal blood, hunting tigers in Indian jungles, could have
been prouder of his striped trophies than they were of theirs.
Meanwhile Ivy slept peacefully on, one little hand sticking to her
plump, molasses-smeared cheek, the other holding fast to her headless
doll. Beside her on the floor lay a tattered picture-book, a big bottle
half full of red shelled corn, and John Jay's most precious treasure, a
toy watch that could be endlessly wound up. He had heaped them all
beside her, hoping they would keep her occupied until his return, in
case she should waken earlier than usual.
The sun was well on its way to bed when the little hunters shouldered
their clubs, with a snake dangling from each one, and started for the
cabin.
"My! I didn't know it was so late!" exclaimed John Jay ruefully, as they
met a long procession of home-going cows.
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