CHAPTER XVI
THE DUCKS GROW DIZZY-HEADED
THE day after the butting match a laughable thing happened at the farm.
A big tub of cider was down in the orchard waiting for the kegs to put it in when some ducks on their way for a swim in the pond smelt something like rotten apples, a food all ducks like very much. They decided to stop and eat some. Consequently they flew up on the edge of the tub, and seeing it filled almost to overflowing, they thought it would be nice to go swimming in anything that smelt so good. Three old mother ducks and five young ones jumped in that cider. They tasted it and it was so refreshing a draught that they kept drinking as they swam about. The more they tasted it, the more they wanted. But presently they could not tell when they were drinking it and when they were not, as they felt queer in the head. Everything seemed to be running around like mad; even the wheelbarrows were going around in circles with no person pushing them, while the big barn was swaying as in a gale.
At last one old duck quacked to another, “Sister, just see how crazily everything in the barnyard is acting. Even the barn itself looks as if it would topple over.”
“It certainly does! I was noticing it when you spoke,” said a second.
“We better go over and see what causes it,” suggested the third old duck.
The young ducks, on being asked, preferred to stay where they were and swim around.
“My, what is the matter with this tub? It doesn’t stand still, and I cannot get out. It is acting just the same as everything over in the barnyard!”
“It must be we are having some kind of a storm. Perhaps it is a radio storm. Not that I ever heard of a radio storm, but I will wager there are such things. There are so many new things these days, one can’t say there can’t be such a thing, for if they do, there it is the next day right before them.”