Mun Bun and Margy, both of whom had been crying, now stopped, and Violet looked at the place where they had been lost in the hay. At the rear of the mow were several long wooden places, like chimneys, made of smooth boards. Down these “chimneys,” or chutes, hay could be pushed, dropping into the mangers of the horses stabled below.
Margy and Mun Bun had been running and sliding about on the pile of hay and, without knowing it, had come too near the feed chute. Into it they both slipped at the same time, carrying with them some wads of the dried grass.
As both children slid into the upright chute at the same time, they became wedged fast, together with some hay, and this stopped them from sliding all the way down to the manger. And there they had remained, caught fast, until Adam pulled them out.
“Are you hurt?” asked the hired man, as he helped the little ones down the ladder.
“No,” answered Margy. “But it was awful dark!”
“And the hay tickled the back of my neck,” added Mun Bun. “I sneezed.”
“And when he sneezed he made me bump my nose and I—now, I cried,” confessed Margy.
“Well, you’re all right now,” said Violet consolingly. “And maybe you can find some eggs.”
“Oh, I’d like to find eggs!” exclaimed Margy, quickly drying her tears.
“So would I,” added her brother, rubbing his eyes with his fists.