rock, carried it to the creek and dipped it full of
water.

"That's too much," I objected. "She'll know she never got a crock full
from a dry vine."

"She'll think the vine bled itself dry for her sake."

"She isn't that silly."

"Well then, how silly is she?" asked Leon, spilling out half. "About
so?"

"Not so bad as that. Less yet!"

"Anything to please the ladies," said Leon, pouring out more. Then we
sat and giggled a while.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Leon.

"Play in the creek," I answered.

"All right! I'll work near you."

He rolled his trousers above his knees and took the hoe, but he was in
the water most of the time. We had to climb on the bank when we came
to the deep curve, under the stump of the old oak that father cut
because Pete Billings would climb it and yowl like a wildcat on cold
winter nights. Pete was wrong in his head like Paddy Ryan, only worse.
As we passed we heard the faintest sounds, so we lay and looked, and
there in the dark place under the roots, where the water was deepest,
huddled some of the cunningest little downy wild ducks you ever saw.
We looked at each other and never said a word. Leon chased them out
with the hoe and they swam down stream faster than old ones. I stood
in the shallow water behind them and kept them from going back to the
deep place, while Leon worked to catch them. Every time he got one he
brought it to me, and I made a bag of my apron front to put them in.
The supper bell rang before we caught all of them. We were dripping
wet with creek water and perspiration, but we had the ducks, every one
of them, and proudly started home. I'll wager Leon was sorry he didn't
wear aprons so he could carry them. He did keep the last one in his
hands, and held its little fluffy body against his cheeks every few
minutes.

"Couldn't anything be prettier than a young duck."

"Except a little guinea," I said.

"That's so!" said Leon. "They are most as pretty as quail. I guess
all young things that have down are about as cunning as they can be. I
don't believe I know which I like best, myself."

"Baby killdeers."

"I mean tame. Things we raise."

"I'll take guineas."

"I'll say white turkeys. They seem so innocent. Nothing of ours is
pretty as these."

"But these are wild."

"So they are," said Leon. "Twelve of them. Won't mother be pleased?"

She was not in the least. She said we were a sight to behold; that she
was ashame