He put René in Desiré’s lap, and went to examine the wreckage.
“One stake pulled right out,” he reported. “Wonder how that happened. I know I had it in tight, and there is practically no wind.”
“Could he have done it in any way?” asked Desiré, motioning to the little boy.
“René,” said Jack, stooping before the child, who was now quiet again, “did you do anything to the rope of the tent to make it fall?”
René glanced up into his brother’s face upon which shone the rays of the full moon, and, turning, burrowed deep into Desiré’s arms.
“Guilty, I guess. Tell me exactly what you did,” directed Jack.
“Woke up. Played I was a gull; rope was my string. Hung on it; old thing came down. Bang!”
“René,” said Jack, taking the child’s face between his hands, and forcing him to meet his eyes, “you must never, never pull on the ropes of a tent, or meddle with any part of it. If you do, you can’t sleep in it with me, but will have to stay in the wagon with the girls.”
He picked him up and set him on a nearby stump.
“Now sit right here and think about what I have just said, while Desiré and I put the tent up again. Don’t move from the place, and watch how much extra work you have made for us when we are all so tired.”