Six Little Bunkers at Cousin Tom's - BestLightNovel.com
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"Well, we want you to have fun while you are here at Cousin Tom's, but we don't want you to get hurt," said Mrs. Bunker. "Can't you make a little playhouse of the driftwood on the beach? That would be nicer to play in than a damp hole."
"Oh, yes, we could do that!" cried Rose. "Let's make a wooden house on the beach, Russ! There's lots of wood!"
"And then we can play pirates!" added the little boy.
A little later Rose had been dug out of the sand, and though her dress was a little damp, for the sand, as one dug down into it, was rather wet, she was not hurt.
All along the sands at Seaview, after high tide, were bits of planks and boards and chips, and after Rose had been dug out of the sand house she and Russ began gathering all the wood they could pick up to make what Russ said would be a "pirate bungalow."
Mrs. Bunker, after telling the children once more not to dig deep holes, left them on the beach to play, herself going back to Cousin Tom's bungalow.
Margy and Mun Bun, who had been gathering sh.e.l.ls and stones down on the sand, had come up to play in front of the house, on a bit of green lawn.
Laddie and Vi, who had walked up and down the beach, looking for some starfish, which they did not find, came to where Russ and Rose were getting ready to play.
"What are you making?" asked Laddie.
"A pirate bungalow," answered Russ. "Want to help?"
"Yep," answered Laddie.
"And I will, too," said Vi. "What are you going to put in it? Will it be big enough for all of us, and what makes so much wood here, Russ?"
"Now if you're going to ask a lot of questions you can't play!" said Rose. "You just help pick up the wood, Vi."
"Can't I ask just one more question?"
"What is it?" asked Russ, smiling.
"What makes the ocean so salty?" Vi asked this time. "I got some water on my hands and then I put my finger in my mouth and it tasted just like I'd put too much salt on my potatoes. What makes the ocean so salty?"
"I don't know," said Russ. "We'll ask Daddy when we go up. But come on, and let's build the bungalow. I'll be a pirate, and we'll play s.h.i.+pwreck and everything."
"I'll be a pirate, too," added Laddie. "I know a good riddle about a pirate, but I can't think of it now. Maybe I will after I've been a pirate for a while."
"We'll be pirates, too," said Vi.
"No, girls can't be," said Russ. "You can be our prisoners. Pirates always have prisoners."
"Prisoners? What's them?" asked Vi.
"They're what pirates have," explained Laddie. "I know, 'cause I saw some pictures of 'em in a book. Pirates always keep their prisoners shut up in a cave."
"I'm not going to be in a cave," said Rose. "I was in the sand house when it caved in, and I don't like it."
"But you get good things to eat," explained Russ. "Pirates always have to feed their prisoners good things to eat."
"Then I'll be one, 'cause I'm hungry," said Vi.
"So'll I," added Laddie. "I'll be a prisoner. I guess I'd rather be a prisoner than a pirate, Russ. You can be the pirate and get us all good things to eat."
"All right, I will. Now come on, we've got to get a lot more wood to make this pirate bungalow. Get all the wood you can."
"Why don't you get some?" asked Laddie, as he saw his brother sitting down on a pile of drift pieces that had already been gathered.
CHAPTER XI
GOING CRABBING
Russ Bunker looked up at his brother Laddie and smiled. Still he made no move toward helping gather the driftwood for the bungalow they were going to make.
"Well, why don't you help get wood?" asked Laddie again. "Think we're going to do all the work and have you sit there?"
"Say, I'm a pirate, ain't I?" asked Russ, not getting his words just right, though his brother and sisters understood what he meant. "Didn't you say I was to be the pirate?"
"Yes, 'cause we don't want to be," retorted Rose.
"Well, all right then, I'm going to be the pirate," went on Russ.
"But you've got to get us good things to eat," said Vi. "We're the prisoners, an' you said they had good things to eat."
"I'll get good things to eat if Cousin Ruth'll give 'em to me," promised Russ. "But I'm the pirate, and pirates don't ever work. They just boss the prisoners. Now come on, prisoners, and build me the bungalow!" and Russ leaned back on a pile of sea weed and looked very lazy and comfortable.
"Don't pirates _ever_ work?" asked Laddie.
"Nope! Not the kind I ever heard Mother read about in books," went on Russ. "They just tell the prisoners what to do, 'ceptin', of course, when there's any fighting. Pirates are 'most always fighting, but we won't play that part, 'cause Mother doesn't like that. I'll be a good pirate, and I'll let you prisoners build the bungalow."
"But you've got to get us something to eat," said Vi again.
"I'll do that," promised Russ. "I'll go up now and ask Cousin Ruth for some, and you prisoners can be getting a lot of wood."
The plans Russ made came out all right. Cousin Tom's pretty young wife was very glad to give the children some crackers and cookies to take down on the beach to eat, and when Russ got back with the bag of good things he found that Rose, Laddie and Violet had collected a large pile of driftwood.
"Now we'll make the bungalow," decided Russ. "I'll help work at that, 'cause the pirates want it made just so. But you prisoners have got to help."
"Can't we eat first, 'fore we make the bungalow?" asked Violet. "I'm as hungry as anything!"
"Yes, I guess we could eat first. I'm hungry, too," returned the "pirate."
Then the "pirate" and his "prisoners" sat down on the sand together, as nicely as you please, leaning against bits of driftwood covered with seaweed, and ate the lunch Cousin Ruth had given them. It did not take very long. Probably you know what a very short time cookies last among four hungry children.
"Well, now we'll start to build," said Russ, when the last cookie and cracker had been eaten. "First we'll stick up four posts in the sand, one for each corner of the bungalow."
The children had made playhouses before, not only at their home in Pineville, but while they were at Grandma Bell's house, near Lake Sagatook, Maine; so they knew something of what they wanted to do.
Of course the bungalow was rather rough. It could not be otherwise with only rough driftwood with which to make it. But then it was just what the children wanted.