get up and run about.

Sunny Boy's foot felt too funny for words, and at first he was sure it
had dropped off while he had been sitting on it. He could not feel it at
all. After stamping up and down a few minutes the funny feeling went
away, and he came back to his father and took his line.

"Your foot was asleep," said Mr. Horton in a low tone. "Don't sit on it
again. Feel a nibble?"

Sunny Boy drew his line up and looked at it. There was nothing at all on
the pin.

"Percy Perch must have taken that cracker when you weren't looking," said
Mr. Horton, putting another cracker on. "Now watch out that Tommy Trout
doesn't run off with this."

Sunny Boy waited and waited. A yellow butterfly came and sat down on a
blade of grass near him. Sunny looked at it more closely--it was a funny
butterfly--a funny butter--

Splash went his rod and line, but he never heard it. Sunny Boy was fast
asleep, and Tommy Trout must have run away with the pin and the cracker
because they were never heard of again. When Sunny Boy opened his eyes
again, his father was folding up his fishing tackle.

"Hello! You're a great fisherman!" Daddy greeted him. "See what we're
going to take home to Mother to surprise her."

Sunny Boy rubbed his sleepy eyes. There on the grass lay four pretty
little fish.

"Did you catch them?" he asked Daddy, who nodded.

"My land of Goshen!" said Sunny Boy.

"Where'd you pick that up?" demanded Daddy. "Do you think apple pie might
help you to feel spryer?"

Sunny Boy was interested in pie, and he helped Daddy to spread the little
white cloth on the ground. He had not known a picnic was part of the fun
of fishing!

CHAPTER XI

THE HAY SLIDE

"Daddy," said Sunny Boy, as he munched a sandwich, lying on his stomach
and looking down into the brook from the safe height of the bank, "how
much is five hundred dollars?"

"A large sum of money," answered Mr. Horton, surprised. "Why, Son? What
do you know about such things? Little boys shouldn't be bothering about
money for years and years to come."

So Sunny told him about Grandpa's bonds and how he had lost them by
pasting them on his kite. Mr. Horton was very sorry, but he said little.

"Only remember this, Sunny Boy," he insisted gravely. "I would rather you
told me yourself than to have heard it from any one else--even from
Mother. When you've done anything good or bad that you think I should
know, you tell me yourself, always. And now how about