A moment later the fork load of hay with Russ clinging to it, one hand on the lifting rope, swung within reach of the man in the mow window. Russ was caught, pulled inside to safety, and as he sank down on the pile of hay within the barn the man said:
“You’d better not do that again!”
“I won’t!” promised Russ, with a little shiver of fear and excitement.
Rose and the other children breathed more easily now, and Adam North, wiping the sweat from his forehead, murmured:
“You never know what these youngsters are going to do next!”
Back to the hay field went the empty wagon, the six little Bunkers riding on it. The trip back was not as comfortable as the one on the load of hay had been. For the wagon was rickety and the road was rough and jolty. But the six little Bunkers had a jolly time, just the same.
The men were working fast now, and Daddy Bunker was helping them, for dark clouds in the west and distant muttering of thunder seemed to tell of a coming storm, and Farmer Joel did not want his hay to get wet.
Another big load was taken to the barn, no upset happening this time. And you may be sure Adam made certain that Russ did not cling to the hay fork.
After three loads had been put away most of the hay was in. Scattered about the field, however, were little piles and wisps of the fodder—perhaps half a load in all—and this must be raked up by the big horse rake.
“Oh, may I have a ride?” cried Laddie, when he saw the machine being brought out from a corner of the rail fence where it had been standing.