“I’ll sprinkle crumbs for him to get afterward,” planned Sunny. “The fishes had them last time, and now it is Mr. Spider’s turn.”
Presently, when no one could eat another bite, Mother and Grandmother folded up the cloth and put the sandwiches left over in one box. All the odds and ends were put down on a paper plate for Bruce to eat, and then Grandpa dug a hole in the ground and he and Sunny Boy buried the papers out of sight.
“For I won’t let any one build a fire in my woods in July when we’re needing rain so badly and every stick is like tinder,” said Grandpa sturdily. “And we won’t leave a messy picnic ground, even if it is our own, shall we?”
Mrs. Horton had her knitting, and she and Grandma sat and worked and talked quietly while Grandpa and Sunny Boy went off together to try to find a sassafras bush. Just as they had found one and Grandpa had taken out his knife to cut a twig for Sunny to taste, Bruce ran into him and nearly knocked him down.
“Grandpa! Grandpa! Something’s the matter with Bruce! Is he sick?” Sunny Boy was a little frightened at the strange way the dog acted. “Look at him! He’s trying to walk on me.”
“He hears thunder,” said Grandpa quietly. “He’s trying to get you to hide him. Funny, I haven’t heard a rumble. But you can trust Bruce. He never fails to tell us. We must hurry and get Mother and Grandma back to the house before it rains.”
They walked back as fast as they could to where they had left the others, and found Mrs. Horton folding up her knitting.
“We thought we heard thunder,” she said, as they came up to her. “I think it is clouding up, too. Why how funny Bruce acts! Is he sick?”
“He’s trying to tell us a storm is coming,” replied Grandpa. “There, there, Bruce, don’t be so silly. We’re going home, and you can hide under the barn floor and never even see the lightning.”
The sun, which had been shining down through the trees, had gone under a cloud, and the branches about them began to rustle as the wind swayed them.