“‘Did he send a message?’ asked Great-grandmother. ‘What did he say?’
“Great-grandfather looked up at the first star. He said, ‘What hath God wrought?’
“Bright and early the next morning Great-grandmother took a hatchet and opened the sugar barrel. She sent Nick to the root cellar for a crock of dried apples, and she worked busily at her pie. The children stood around and watched her. My! it smelled good.
“Just as it was time for the pie to come out of the oven there was a click of the latch and who should walk in but Ninnecons and Shabeno. Oh bother, thought Great-grandmother. They will sit here all day unless I give them some, and if I cut it up there won’t be enough for Johnny when he comes home for his dinner. There are no apples to make another. Perhaps it will go around if I give them extra small pieces. She bent over the oven and lifted out the most luscious, mouth-watering apple pie that you ever saw. The Indians had never smelled anything half so good. Their nostrils widened, and their black beady eyes shone.
“Great-grandmother carried it proudly over to the open window, and placed it on the sill. ‘You mustn’t come too close,’ she warned the eager children. ‘It’s very hot, and you might burn yourselves.’
“‘Oh please, Mother. When may we have some?’
“‘When your father comes in from the fields at noon.’
“The Indians sat against the wall and smoked silently, and the children played on the floor. Suddenly little Katy pointed and screamed and Mom rushed to the window. There facing her, was a great, shaggy, brown bear! He stood up on his hind legs, and right before her astonished eyes he picked up the pie in his paws and ran off with it.
“Now, your pioneer ancestor didn’t stop to think of the bear as a dangerous animal. All that she knew was that a thief was making off with her precious pie.
“‘Stop!’ she cried, picking up her rolling pin. ‘Don’t you dare run off with my pie!’