by A. A. Milne
"I'll get a light," said Grandpa Ford. "A lantern will be best. There is always more or less breeze up in the attic, and a candle or lamp might blow out. Come on."
Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford went up into the attic, while the six little Bunkers, two of them with their heads under the covers, waited to hear what would happen. So did Mother Bunker and Grandma Ford.
The two men were heard tramping around in the attic, and then, suddenly, just as the bells gave another jingle, there was a loud laugh.
"There! It's all right," said Mother Bunker. "They've found the—the—whatever it was," she said quickly. "And it must be funny, for hear them laugh."
Down came Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford. Grandpa Ford carried the lantern, and Daddy Bunker had something in his hand.
"Here's what caused all the trouble!" he said, and he held out something round and red.
"An apple!" cried Russ, who had come out in the hall to see.
"Just an apple," went on Daddy Bunker. "This apple made all the noise, or, rather, was the cause of the bells jingling."
"How could an apple make bells jingle?" asked Laddie. "Is that a riddle, Daddy?"
"Well, almost, you might say. This is how it happened. When Grandpa Ford and I got up to the attic, we saw the string of sleigh bells hanging from a nail, where you children must have left them when you last played with them. But we couldn't see any one near them who might have rung them, and there was no one in the attic, as far as we knew.
"Then, even as we stood there, waiting and looking about, I saw the string of bells move, and then they jingled, and, looking down on the floor, I saw a big rat trying to carry this apple away in his mouth."
"Oh, Daddy!" cried Rose, "how could a rat carrying an apple away in his mouth, make the bells ring?"
"Easily enough," her father answered. "The apple was tied on a string, as I suppose some of you children left it when you got through playing this afternoon. And the other end of the cord was tied to the string of bells. That was also more of your play, I suppose.
"The rat came out of his hole in the attic, smelled the apple on the floor, and tried to drag it into his cupboard. But the string held it fast, and as the rat pulled and tugged he made the sleigh bells jingle; for every time he pulled the apple he pulled the string, and every time he pulled the string he pulled the bells."
"And is that all there was?" asked Grandma Ford.
"All there was," answered Grandpa Ford. "Just a rat trying to have a nice apple supper made the bells ring."
"Well, I'm glad I know what it was," said Mother Bunker. "If I hear a noise in the night I like to know what it is and where it comes from. Now I can go back to sleep."
"So can I," said Rose.
And the other little Bunkers said the same thing. As for Mun Bun and Margy, as soon as they heard that everything was all right they uncovered their heads and went to sleep before any one else.
"Well, well! To think what a little thing can puzzle every one," said Grandpa Ford to Daddy Bunker, as the grown folks went back to their rooms. "Maybe we'll find that the other noises are made just as simply as this one was."
"Maybe," agreed Daddy Bunker. "But of late we haven't heard that groaning noise much, and maybe we shall not again."
"I hope not," said Mother Bunker.
The grown folks did not know that, half asleep as they were even then, Russ and Rose heard this talk. And the two older Bunker children made up their minds to find the ghost—if there was one—or whatever sounded like one.
The next day the children all went up to the attic and saw the string where one of them had left it tied to the bells. Daddy Bunker had taken off the apple.
"I wish we could see the rat!" exclaimed Laddie.
"I don't," said Rose. "I don't like rats."
"I guess I've a riddle about a rat," said Laddie after a pause.
"What is it?" asked Russ. "I can guess it, easy."
"No, you can't!" declared his brother.
"I can so!"
"You can not!"
"Well, let's hear it," demanded Russ.
"It's when is a rat not a rat?" asked Laddie. "That's the riddle. When is a rat not a rat?"
"It's always a rat," said Rose.
"Do you mean when a cat is after him?" asked Russ, trying to guess the riddle.
"No," answered Laddie. "That isn't it. I'll give you another guess."
Russ tried to think of several other reasons why a rat was sometimes not a rat, but at last he gave up.
"This is it," said Laddie. "A rat isn't a rat when he's a bell-ringer; like the one in the attic was last night."
"Yes, that's a pretty good riddle," agreed Russ, after a bit. "Some day I'm going to make a riddle. Now I'm going to make snowshoes."
"How do you make them?" asked Laddie.
Russ was going to tell his brother, and take him out to the barn to show him, when Mother Bunker called up:
"Who wants to go for a ride with Grandpa?"
"I do! I! Take me! I want to go!" came in a chorus.
"Well, he has room for all of you, so come along. He's going to Tarrington to get some friends to come out to the Thanksgiving dinner, and you six may all go along," said Mother Bunker.
So the six little Bunkers had another fine sleigh ride, and came back to Great Hedge with fine appetites. They also brought back in the sled with them Mr. and Mrs. Burton, old friends of Grandpa Ford, who generally spent the Thanksgiving holiday with him.
For the next few days there were so many things going on at Great Hedge that if I only told about them I'd fill this book. But, as I have other happenings to relate to you, and the ghost to tell about, I will just skip over this part by saying that every one, even down to Mun Bun, helped get ready for the Thanksgiving dinner.
Such goings-on as there were in Grandma Ford's kitchen! Such delicious smells of cake and pie and pudding! Such baking, roasting, boiling, frying and stewing! Such heaps of good things in the pantry!
And then the dinner! The big roast turkey, and celery, and a big dish of red cranberries, and other good things!
"I got the wish-bone!" cried Rose, as she finished her plate.
"Let me help pull it with you, when it gets dry!" begged Russ, and then, in a whisper, he said: "If I get the wish I'll wish we could find the ghost."
"So'll I," said Rose.
After dinner the children played games in the house, as it blew up cold and blustery and was not nice to go out in the snow. Rose had put the wish-bone over the kitchen stove to dry, and, late in the afternoon, she and Russ went out to get it to break, and wish over it. The one who held the larger part could make a wish.
"Snap!" went the wish-bone.
"Oh, I have it!" cried Rose. "I'm going to wish!"
And just then, all of a sudden, a loud, hollow groan sounded throughout the house.
Russ Makes Snowshoes
"There it goes! There it goes again!" cried Rose, and, forgetting all about having gotten the larger end of the bone, so that she had the right to make a wish, she dropped it and ran toward the sitting-room.
The rest of the six little Bunkers and the father and mother, with Grandma and Grandpa Ford and their guests, were gathered in the sitting-room after the Thanksgiving dinner.
There was no doubt that they all heard the noise. It was so loud, and it sounded through the whole house in such a way that every one heard it. Only Mun Bun and Margy and Violet and Laddie did not pay much heed to it. They were playing a game in one corner of the room.
"Did you hear it?" asked Russ, as Rose ran over and crouched down beside her mother.
"I heard a noise, yes," answered Mrs. Bunker quietly.
"We all heard it—and there it goes again!" exclaimed Grandpa Ford.
"O-u-g-h-m!" came the awful sound.
"It's the wind," said Grandma Ford.
"The wind isn't blowing," said Daddy Bunker. "It must be something else. There is no wind."
There was a little, but not enough to blow the s
now about. It had been blustery—so cold and blowy, in fact, that the six little Bunkers could not go out to play. But now the sun had gone down, and, as often happens, the wind died down with it. The night was going to be still and cold.
"No, I don't believe it was the wind," said Grandpa Ford. "It's the same noise we heard before. We must try to find out what it is, Charles," and he turned to Daddy Bunker.
"It's the ghost! That's what it is!" exclaimed Russ. "We tried to find it, Rose and I did—but we couldn't. It's the ghost!"
"Nonsense! What do you know about ghosts?" said Mother Bunker, and she tried to laugh, but it did not sound very jolly. "There aren't any such things as ghosts," she went on.
"Well, I got the big end of the wish-bone," said Rose, "and I was just going to wish that I'd find the ghost when, all of a sudden, I heard it!"
"Now see here, you two!" exclaimed Daddy Bunker, speaking to Russ and Rose, while Laddie and Vi, with Mun Bun and Margy, were still at their game. "You mustn't be talking about such things as ghosts. There isn't any such thing, and you may scare the younger children."
"How did you hear about a ghost at Great Hedge?" asked Grandpa Ford curiously.
Russ and Rose looked at each other. The time had come to tell of their listening under the window, and they felt a little ashamed of it. But they had been taught to tell the truth, no matter how much it hurt, and they must do it now.
"How did you know about a ghost?" asked Mother Bunker.
"We—we heard you and Grandpa Ford talking about it—the time he came to our house," confessed Russ. He felt that he, being the oldest, must speak first.
"We listened under the window," added Rose. She wanted to do her share of the telling.
"That was very wrong to do," said her mother. "But, of course, I know you didn't mean to do wrong. Still, as it happened, no great harm was done, but you should have told me about it at the time. It was not right to be so mysterious about it, nor to have it as a secret. You two children are too small to have secrets away from Father and Mother, unless they are little ones, like birthday surprises and the like. Now, don't listen under windows again."
"We won't," promised Russ and Rose, who then told the whole story.
"But is there a ghost?" asked Russ, as the strange noise sounded again.
"No, of course not," said Daddy Bunker. "But, since you have heard part of the story, you may as well hear all of it."
Seeing that the four smaller children were busy at their play, and would not listen to what he said, Daddy Bunker drew Russ and Rose up on his lap and began:
"You remember when Grandpa Ford came to see us, he said he wanted to take us back with him, and, if we could, have us help him find out something queer about Great Hedge, which he had bought from Mr. Ripley. The 'something queer' was that, every now and then, noises, such as you heard just now, sound through the house. Grandpa Ford and Grandma Ford couldn't find out where they came from, and neither Mr. Ripley nor his daughter knew what made them.
"Of course," went on Daddy Bunker, "some people, when they hear a strange sound or see a strange sight, think it is a ghost. But there is no such thing."
"We thought it was a ghost made Mun Bun's hair stick out and be pulled," confessed Rose, "but it was only the spinning wheel."
"Now, to go on with my story. As the queer noises kept up, Grandpa Ford came to get me, to see if I could help him. I am in the real estate business, you know—I buy and sell houses—and he thought I might know something about the queer noise in his house. I have bought and sold houses that people said were haunted—that is, which were supposed to have ghosts in," laughed Daddy Bunker. "But I never saw nor heard of any spirits."
"Did you find out what made this noise?" asked Russ.
"No, we haven't yet, but we take a look every time we hear it," said his father. "That is what we are going to do now. So, after this, don't be afraid when you hear it. It is something in the house that makes it—not a ghost or anything like that. We'll find it sooner or later, Grandpa Ford and I."
"May we help?" asked Russ.
"Please, Daddy?" cried Rose.
"Well, yes, I guess so, if you want to," answered his father slowly. "If you hear the noise, and it sounds anywhere near you, look around and see if you can find out what makes it. Don't cry 'ghost!' and scare the others."
"We won't," promised Rose. "And maybe we'll be lucky and find it."
"I hope you will," put in Grandma Ford.
"It sounded like a cow mooing," remarked Russ.
"Yes, it did," agreed Grandpa Ford. "At first I thought it was a cow that had got into the cellar. But I couldn't find one. Then I thought it was boys playing a trick on us, but I heard the noise in the middle of the night, when no boys would be out. I don't know what makes it, but I'd like to find the ghost, as I call it, though I'm not going to after this. That isn't a good name. We'll just call it 'Mr. Noise.'"
"And we'll help you find 'Mr. Noise'!" laughed Russ.
Laddie came from where he was playing with a new riddle, and, while they were laughing over it, the groaning noise sounded again.
"Listen, all of you, and see if you can tell where it is," said Grandpa Ford.
Russ and Rose listened. So did Laddie and Violet; but Mun Bun and Margy kept on playing with their dolls.
"It's a tree rubbing against the house outside," said Russ.
"I thought so at first," said Grandpa Ford, "but there are now no trees that rub. I cut off the branches of those that did."
Each one thought it was in a different room, but a search showed nothing out of the way. They were all very much puzzled.
"It's worse than one of Laddie's queer riddles," said Daddy Bunker, when he and Grandpa Ford came back from having searched in several of the rooms.
They listened for a while longer, but the noise was not heard again, and then it was time to go to bed. The wind sprang up again and the clouds seemed to promise more snow. And, surely enough, in the morning, the white flakes were falling thick and fast.
"They'll cover up our snow man," said Laddie to Russ.
"Never mind. I know how we can have more fun," said the older boy.
"How?"
"I'll make some snowshoes for us, and we can walk without sinking down in the snow."
"How can you do that?"
"Oh, I'll show you. I started to make 'em before, but I forgot about it. Now I will."
And, when breakfast was over, and the four older children had been warmly wrapped and allowed to go out to play in the storm, Russ led Laddie to the barn.
"We'll make the snowshoes there," he said. "I have everything all ready."
Laddie saw a pile of barrel staves—the long, thin pieces of wood of which barrels are made, where his brother had stacked them. Russ also had some pieces of rope, a hammer and some nails, and some long poles.
"What are they for?" asked Laddie, pointing to the poles.
"That's to take hold of and help yourself along. It's awful hard to walk on snowshoes—real ones, I mean. And, maybe, it'll be harder to walk on the barrel kind I'm going to make."
Then Russ began making the snowshoes.
On Skates
You have probably all seen pictures of regular snowshoes, even if you have not seen real snowshoes, so you know how much like big lawn-tennis rackets they look. Snowshoes are broad and flat, and fasten on outside of one's regular shoes, so a person can walk on the soft snow, or on the hard crust, without sinking down in.
The Indians used to make snowshoes by bending a frame of wood into almost the shape of a tennis racket—except it had no long handle—and then stretching pieces of the skins of animals across this.
"But I'm not going to make that kind," said Russ.
"What kind are you going to make?" asked Laddie as he watched his brother.
"Oh, mine's going to be easier than that."
Russ took a long, thin barrel stave, that was curved up a little on either end. To the middle of the stave he tacked some pieces of ro
pe and string.
"That's to tie the shoe to your foot," he explained to Laddie.
In a little while, with his brother's help, Russ had made four of the barrel-stave snowshoes—a pair for himself and a pair for Laddie.
"Now all we have to do," said Russ, "is to tie 'em on and walk out on the snow. We won't sink down in, as we do with our regular feet, and we can go as fast as anything."
"Won't we fall?" asked Laddie.
"We'll hold on to the poles. That's what I got 'em for," said Russ.
In a short time he and his brother had fastened the barrel staves to their shoes, winding and tying the cords and ropes, and even some old straps around and around. Their feet looked very queer—almost like those of some clown in the circus. But Laddie and Russ did not mind that. They wanted to walk on the home-made snowshoes.
"Come on!" called Russ, as he shuffled across the barn floor toward the door, from which led a big stretch of deep, white snow. "Come on, Laddie!"
"I—I can't seem to walk," the little fellow said. "I keep stepping on my feet all the while."
This was very true. As he took one step he would put the other snowshoe down on the one he had moved last, and then he could not raise the underneath foot.
"Spread your legs apart and sort of slide along," said Russ. "Then you won't step on your own feet. Do it this way."
Russ separated one foot from the other as far as he could, and then he shuffled along, not raising his feet. He found this the best way, and soon he was at the barn door, with Laddie behind him.
"Come on now, we'll start and walk on the snow, and we'll s'prise Daddy and Mother," cried Russ.
He did manage to glide over the snow, the broad, long barrel staves keeping him from sinking in the soft drifts. Laddie did not do quite so well, but he managed to get along.
The boys held long poles, which helped to keep them from falling over, and, at first, so uneven was the walking that they might have fallen if it had not been for the long staffs.
"I'll make snowshoes for all of us," said Russ, as he and Laddie went slowly around the corner of the barn. "Then we can play Indians, and go on a long walk and take our dinner and stay all day."
