“Oh, the poor piggies!” exclaimed Chicken Little. “Why, they’ll be most starved and maybe the bull snakes might get them.”
“I hardly think they could manage a pig. But I can’t help it, unless you think you could rescue them, 128daughter.” Dr. Morton said this last in fun, but Chicken Little took it seriously.
“What could I put them in, Father?”
“Oh, you might take a small chicken coop,” replied her father carelessly. The wagons coming from the barn were already rattling into the road and he was in a hurry to catch one and save himself the hot walk to the fields.
Chicken Little was thinking. She sat twisting a corner of her apron into a tight roll. “I believe we could do it,” she said presently, “and the bull snakes are perfectly harmless if they are big, ugly-looking things. Will you help me, Katie?”
“Ugh, are there really snakes there, Jane?”
“Yes, but we’ve never seen any poisonous ones along there, though I saw a water moccasin once right down by the spring, so you never can tell. But snakes sound a lot worse than they really are, ’cause they’re such cowards they always run.”
Katy considered. The task did not sound attractive, but Katy was plucky. “I guess, if you can do it, I can.”
Jane had not thought of asking Gertie and she was surprised to hear her say: “I’m coming, too.”
“Oh, Gertie, won’t you be afraid?”