"Can't I say anything to you behind the wood pile?" asked David, in surprise.
"No, not a teenty word. An' don't you look at me. If you do, Old Bandy Legs'll come after you."
"You said he was dead," cried David in a fearful whisper, and crouching tight to Joel and gripping him with both arms. "O dear me!"
"So he is; but he'll catch you if you say a single word. Now go to sleep, an' when I tell you to come with me to-morrow, you must start just as quick as scat."
"I shall take a basket for the green flowers," said Davie, trying not to think of "Old Bandy Legs."
"No, you mustn't; you can bring 'em down in your arms."
"I can't bring many," said little David, swallowing hard. "I can't bring many, Joe, an' Polly'll want some in her garden."
"Well, old Bandy Legs won't let you get any, if you don't stop," said Joel, crossly, "so there now!" and he rolled off to the edge of the old straw bed, and in two minutes was fast asleep, leaving little Davie peering up at the rafters to watch for the first streak of light, determined to get as many green flowers as he possibly could for Polly's garden.
"I'll twist up a birch-bark basket, to bring 'em down in," he decided. And the first thing either of them knew, there was Polly shaking their arms and laughing. "You lazy little things, you--get up! I've been calling and calling and calling you to breakfast."
Joel and David flew up into the middle of the bed.