"This is fast!" he called in Laddie's ear.

"Yes, but I like it," said the smaller boy. "I'm going to make up a riddle about the ice boat but it goes so fast as soon as I think of anything in my head I forget it."

"It's fun!" exclaimed Russ. "When I get bigger I'm going to make an ice boat that goes——"

But what Russ intended to do he never finished telling for, just then, there came a stronger puff of wind than before, and Dick cried:

"Lookout!"

Just what they were to look out for Russ and Laddie did not know, but they soon discovered.

The ice boat seemed to tilt up on one side, "as if it wanted to stand on its ear," Grandpa Ford said afterward, and out spilled Russ, out spilled Laddie, and Dick, himself, almost spilled out. But he managed to hold fast, which the two boys could not do.

Out of the ice boat the lads tumbled. But as they had on thick coats, and as they did not fall very far but went spinning over the frozen pond, they thought it was fun.

Over the ice they slid, just as a skater slides when he falls down, and finally they stopped and sat up.

"Huh!" grunted Russ.

"That—that was fun, wasn't it?" asked Laddie.

"Lots of fun!" agreed Russ. "I wonder if he did it on purpose?"

"Let's ask him to do it again," suggested Laddie.

But the spill was an accident. Dick had not meant that it should happen.

"As for giving you more rides," he said, when he had brought the boat back to shore, "I don't believe I'd better. The wind is getting stronger, and there might be a real accident next time. Some other day I'll give you more rides."

"Oh, Dick, please!" pleaded Violet. But Dick said he was sorry, but they would all have to wait for a calmer day.

So the little Bunkers had to be satisfied with this, and really they had had fine fun, and all agreed that Dick's ice boat was just grand.

Back to the house they went, and, as it was nearly time to eat, they did not come out again until after the meal. Then there was more skating, and some fun on the ice with sleds, until it was time to come in for the day.

"What'll we do to-morrow?" asked Rose, as she and the other little Bunkers were getting ready for bed.

"If it snows we can go coasting," said Russ.

"Well, it looks and feels like snow," said Grandpa Ford, who came in from the barn just then, having gone out to see that the horses and cows were all right.

The grown folks sat about the fire after supper, talking and telling stories while the children were asleep in their beds.

"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Bunker.

"What is it?" asked her husband.

"I thought I heard one of the children," she answered.

And just then, through the house, there sounded, as from some distance away, the rattle of a drum.

"Another queer noise!" exclaimed Grandma Ford in dismay. "What will happen next?"



CHAPTER XXI

MR. WHITE

Rattle and bang-bang and rattle sounded the noise of the drum in Grandpa Ford's house, and yet, as the grown folks downstairs in the sitting-room looked at one another, they could not imagine who was playing at soldier. And yet that is what it sounded like—children beating a drum.

"Are any of those little ones up?" asked Mother Bunker. "Could they have gotten out of their beds to beat a drum?"

"I didn't know they had a drum with them," said Daddy Bunker.

"They didn't bring any from home," returned his wife.

"There is an old drum up in the attic," said Grandpa Ford. "It used to belong to Mr. Ripley, I think. Could Russ or Laddie have gone up there and be beating that?"

"The noise has stopped now," remarked Grandma Ford. "Let's go up and see which of the six little Bunkers did it," and she smiled at Mrs. Bunker.

It took only a glance into the different rooms to show that all six of the little Bunkers were in bed. Margy and Mun Bun had not been awakened by the drumming or the talk, but the other four were now waiting with wide-open eyes to learn what had happened.

"There it goes again!" exclaimed Daddy Bunker.

Surely enough the rub-a-dub-dubbing sounded again, this time more loudly than before, because the grown folks were nearer the attic.

"We must see what it is," said Grandpa Ford.

"We surely must," at once agreed Daddy Bunker.

As he and Grandpa Ford started up the stairs to the attic the drumming noise stopped, and all was quiet when the two men went into the attic. It was not dark, as Daddy Bunker took with him his electric flashlight, which he flashed into the different corners.

"Where is that drum you spoke of, Father?" he asked of Grandpa Ford.

"I don't see it now," was the answer. "It used to hang up on one of the rafters. But maybe the children took it down."

Daddy Bunker flashed his light to and fro.

"Here it is!" he cried, and he pointed to the drum standing up at one side of the big chimney, which was in the center of the attic. "The children did have it down, playing with it.

"But I don't see what would make it rattle," went on Daddy Bunker. "Unless," he added, "a rat is flapping its tail against the drum."

The noise had stopped again, but, all of a sudden, as Grandpa Ford and Daddy Bunker stood looking at the drum, the rattle and rub-a-dub-dub broke out again, more loudly than before. The drum seemed to shake and tremble, so hard was it beaten.

"Who is doing it?" cried Grandpa Ford.

Daddy Bunker quickly stepped over where he could see the other side of the drum, which was in the dark. He leaned over, holding his flashlight close, and then he suddenly lifted into view a large, battered alarm clock, without a bell.

"This was beating the drum," he said.

"That?" cried Grandpa Ford. "How could that old alarm clock make it sound as if soldiers were coming?"

"Very easily," answered Daddy Bunker. "See, the bell is off the clock, and the hammer, or striker, sticks out. This is shaped like a little ball, and it stood close against the head of the drum.

"I suppose the children wound the clock up when they were playing with it up here and when it went off the striker beat against the head of the drum and played a regular tattoo."

"Yes, I can see how that might happen," replied Grandpa Ford. "But what made the drum beat sometimes and not at others. Why didn't the alarm clock keep on tapping the drum all the while?"

"Because," said Daddy Bunker, as the clock began to shake and tremble in his hand, "this is one of those alarm clocks that ring for a half minute or so, and then stop, then, in a few minutes, ring again. That is so when a person falls asleep, after the first or second alarm, the third or fourth may awaken him.

"And that's what happened this time. The old alarm clock went off and beat the drum. Then when we started to find out what it was all about, the clock stopped. Then it went off again."

"Another time Mr. Ghost fooled us," said Grandma Ford, when her husband and son came down from the attic.

"Did any of you children have the alarm clock?" asked Mother Bunker, for the four oldest Bunkers were still awake.

"I was playing with it," said Russ. "I was going to make a toy automobile out of it, but it wouldn't work."

"I had it after him, and I wound it up and left it by the drum," said Laddie. "But I didn't think it would go off."

But that is just what happened. Laddie had set the clock to go off at a certain hour, not knowing that he had done so. And he had put it down on the attic floor so the bell-striker was against the head of the drum.

"Well, it's a good thing it didn't go off in the very middle of the night, when we were all asleep," said Mother Bunker. "We surely would have thought an army of soldiers was marching past."

"And it wasn't any ghost at all!" exclaimed Rose, as the grown folks turned to go downstairs.

"No, and there never will be," said her mother. "All noises have something real back of them—even that funny groaning noise we heard."

"But we don't know what that is, yet," said Russ.

"Go to sleep now," urged his mother, and soon the awakened four of the six little Bunkers were slumbering again.

The next morning they all had a good laugh over the drum and the alarm clock, and Laddie and Russ had fun making it go off again. The clock was one that had never kept good time, and so had been tossed away in the attic, which held so many things with which the children could have fun.

"Want to help us, Rose?" asked Russ after breakfast, when the children had on their rubber boots, ready to go out and play in the snow.

"What you going to do?" she asked.

"Make a snow man," Russ answered. "We're going to make another big one—bigger than the one the rain spoiled."

"It'll be lots of fun," added Laddie.

"I'll help," offered Rose.

"Comin', Vi?" asked Laddie.

But Violet, Mun Bun and Margy were going to coast on a little hill which Dick had made for them, so the three Bunkers began to make the snow man.

As Russ had said, they were going to make a large one. So big balls were rolled and moulded together, and after a while the pile of white flakes began to look like a man, with arms sticking out, and big, fat legs on which to stand.

"Grandpa said we could have one of his old tall silk hats to put on Mr. White," said Russ. "That will make him look fine."

"Who is Mr. White?" asked Dick, who was passing at that moment.

"The snow man," answered Laddie. "That's what we're going to call him. 'Pleased to meet you, Mr. White!'" he exclaimed with a laugh, as he made a bow.

Soon Mr. White was finished, with the tall hat and all. There were pieces of black coal for buttons, while some red flannel made him look as if he had very red lips. A nose was made of snow, and bits of coal were his eyes.

"Let's make a Mrs. White!" exclaimed Rose. "And then some little White children, and we can have a whole family," she added.

"Oh, yes, let's do it!" cried Laddie.

"All right," agreed Russ.

But just as they were going to start to make Mrs. White they heard a cry from the spot where the other children were coasting.

"Oh, Mun Bun's hurt!" shouted Rose, and, dropping her shovel, she ran toward the hill.



CHAPTER XXII

AN UPSET

Russ followed his sister over the snow to the place where Dick had made the little hill. If there was trouble Russ wanted to help, for, though Rose was the "little mother," Russ felt he must do his share to help her.

They found that Mun Bun had rolled off the sled in going down a little hill and had toppled into a snow bank.

"But that didn't hurt you!" said Rose, laughing as she picked him up. "There, sister will kiss the place and make it better. You only got a little snow up your sleeve, and it makes your arm cold."

"But I bumped my head, too!" sobbed Mun Bun.

"Well, I'll rub that and make it well," said Rose, and she did.

"But I'm hungry, too," added Mun Bun.

"Oh, I can't rub your hungry away," and Rose laughed so merrily that Mun Bun stopped his crying and laughed too. So did Margy.

"What makes us get hungry?" asked Violet, as Mun Bun let Rose brush the snow from him. "What makes us?"

"It's when something tickles us in our stomachs," answered Laddie. "I know, 'cause I feel that way right now. I wish I had something to eat."

"So do I," said Margy. "My stomach doesn't zactly tickle, but it's hungry."

"Well, I'll go and ask Grandma for some cookies," offered Russ. "She always has a lot in a jar, and they taste awful good. I'll be back in a minute."

Away he ran to the house which was surrounded by the great, high hedge, and soon he came back with both hands and his pockets filled with sugar and molasses cookies.

"I brought two kinds," he said, "'cause I thought some of you would want one kind, and I might want both kinds."

The making of the snow man and the coasting down the little hill stopped while the children ate their cookies, and then, after a while, Russ said:

"Well, we must finish the White family."

"What's that?" asked Violet, brushing some cookie crumbs off her jacket.

"Oh, it's a snow family we're making," explained Rose. "There's Mr. White and Mrs. White and we're going to make some little White snow children."

"Like us six little Bunkers?" asked Mun Bun.

"No, I guess not so many as that," replied Laddie. "That would take us all day. We'll just make two children, a girl and a boy."

"Oh, I'm going to help make the White children!" cried Vi.

"Let's go an' watch 'em!" called Margy to Mun Bun. "We've had enough coasting, haven't we?"

"Yes," said Mun Bun. "We'll make some snow mans ourselves."

With the smaller children dragging their sleds and following them, Russ and Rose and Laddie and Vi went back to where they had left Mr. White standing. There he was, very fine and brave-looking with his tall silk hat on his head, his coal-black eyes glistening in the sun, and his row of black buttons also shining.

All at once, as Russ, who was in the lead of the procession of children, looked at the snow man, he cried:

"Oh!"

"What's the matter?" asked Rose.

"Did you hear some funny noise?" questioned Violet.

"No, but look at Mr. White!" cried Russ. "He took off his hat and made a bow to me!"

"Why, Russ Bunker!" gasped Vi.

"Took off his hat?" cried Laddie.

"Made a bow to you!" exclaimed Rose. "Why, how could he? Mr. White is only a snow man. He isn't alive!"

"Well, he made a bow just the same!" cried Russ. "You just watch, and he'll do it again!"

Eagerly the children watched. Mr. White did not move. He just stared at them with his black eyes, smiled at them with his red cloth lips, and the tall, silk hat upon his snowy head never moved.

"You're fooling us, Russ!" exclaimed Laddie.

"No, I'm not—really!" Russ declared. "I saw him take off his hat and wave it at me."

For a moment the six little Bunkers stood in a row and looked at Mr. White. Then, just as naturally as if he had been used to doing it all his life, Mr. White's tall, black silk hat came off his head, was lowered before the children and was put back again. This time they all saw it.

"Oh, look! Oh!" exclaimed Rose.

"Why—why——" and that was all Laddie could say as he stood with his mouth wide open, he was so surprised.

"You made him do it, Russ!" exclaimed Violet.

"I? How could I make him do it?" Russ demanded.

"It's one of your tricks. You pulled a string and made his hat come off. It's a trick!"

"Well, maybe it is a trick, but I didn't do it," declared Russ. "I haven't got any string fast to his hat. And, anyhow, if I did, maybe I could pull his hat off with a string, but I couldn't pull it back on again, could I?"

"Well, maybe not, but you did it!" insisted Vi.

"No, I didn't!" said Russ. "You watch and I won't move my finger even, and maybe Mr. White will take his hat off again."

"Did you know he was going to do it?" asked Rose, as she looked at the snow man carefully.

"No, I didn't know anything about it," said Russ. "I was walking along with you all, just now, and, all of a sudden, I saw the hat come off. First I thought the wind blew it, and then, when I saw it wave at me, and go back on his head, I knew somebody did it—or—or maybe he did himself."

"But he couldn't, 'cause he's a snow man," insisted Laddie. "And I helped make him and you didn't put any phonograph or any machinery in him. You didn't, did you, Russ?"

"No, not a thing. He's just a snow man."

"Then he couldn't do it!" declared Rose. "But maybe it was Mr. Ghost! No, it couldn't be that 'cause he only makes a noise, and, anyhow, there isn't any such thing. But what is it?"

"Look! He's doing it again!" cried Vi.

Surely enough, the snow man once more took off his tall silk hat, and waved it toward the children. Then it went back on his head again, but this time it was not quite straight. It was tilted to one side, and gave him a very odd look.

"Ho! Ho! Isn't he funny!" laughed Mun Bun. "I like that snow man. I'm going to see what makes him take off his hat!"

"No, don't!" cried Rose, catching hold of her little brother's arm as he was about to run toward Mr. White.

"Why not?" Mun Bun wanted to know.

"'Cause he might—something might—oh, I don't want you to go!" exclaimed Rose. "I guess we'd better go and tell Daddy."

They stood for a moment looking at the snow man who had acted so strangely.

Suddenly the tall silk hat was straightened on Mr. White's head, and then, once more, it was lifted off and bowed to the six little Bunkers.

"Oh!"

"Come on!" cried Russ to Laddie after a moment. "Let's see what does it."

"Maybe it's a riddle," Laddie suggested.

"If it is, it's a funny one," said his brother.

They started for Mr. White, and, all at once, off came the hat again, and then, suddenly, there was a loud a-ker-choo sneeze!

"Oh, he's alive! The snow man has come to life!" cried Rose. "I'm going to the house."

But just then, out from behind the big snow image, with the tall hat in his hand, stepped—Grandpa Ford. He was laughing.

"I tried to stop that sneeze, but I couldn't," he said. "It came out in spite of me."

"Oh, was that you, Grandpa?" asked Rose.

"Did you hide behind the snow man?" questioned Russ.

"And tip his hat?" Laddie demanded.

"Why didn't we see you?" inquired Violet.

"My! what a lot of questions," laughed Grandpa Ford. "Yes, I played a little joke on you. I hid behind the snow man, which was so large I could keep out of sight. I hid there when I saw you coming toward it, and I thought it would be fun to make you think it was alive. So I made him bow with the tall hat."

"But we didn't see your arm," said Russ. "How did you do it? Did you put your arm up inside the snow arm of Mr. White?"

"No," answered his grandfather. "I wound this white scarf around my arm, and it looked so much like the snow man himself that you couldn't see when I moved. Did I fool you?"

"Yes, you did—a lot!" admitted Russ.

"It was better than a riddle," said Laddie.

Then Grandpa Ford showed how he had hidden himself behind Mr. White, and, wrapping his arm in a white scarf, which he wore around his neck in cold weather, Mr. Ford had reached up and lifted off the hat and put it back. The white scarf hid his arm, and it looked exactly as if the snow man had made bows.

"We thought maybe he was alive!" laughed Rose.

"Well, I was going to have him throw snowballs at you in another minute," said Grandpa Ford with a smile, "but I had to sneeze and spoil my trick."

"But it was a good one," said Violet.

"Now, we'll make the rest of the snow family of White," said Russ. "And if Dick or anybody comes along we'll play the same trick on them that Grandpa played on us."

"Well, you can finish making Mr. White's family later," said Grandpa Ford. "I came out now to see if you don't all want to come for a ride with me. I have to go to town for some groceries, and also go a little way into the country to see a man. Do you want to come for a ride?"

Well, you can just imagine how gladly the six little Bunkers answered that they did. They forgot all about the snow people, except to tell Daddy and Mother Bunker about Grandpa's funny trick, and, a little later, they were in the big sled filled with straw, riding over the snow.

Merrily jingled the bells as over the drifts the horses pranced. Down the road they went to the store in Tarrington, where Grandpa Ford bought the things Grandma had sent him after.

"Are we going home now?" asked Russ, as the sled turned down a country road.

"No, not right away," answered his grandfather. "I have to go over to Glodgett's Mills to see a man, and after that we'll turn around and be home in time for supper. It looks like more snow, and I want to get you back before, the storm."

Out on the country roads, where the snow was deep, went the horses, jingling their bells and pulling the sled full of children after them.

"Get along, ponies!" cried Grandpa Ford.

And then, all of a sudden, something happened. The sled went into a big drift, which was deeper than Grandpa Ford thought. A moment later there was an upset, and the six little Bunkers were spilled out into the snow.



CHAPTER XXIII

IN THE CABIN

"Whoa! Whoa there, ponies!" cried Grandpa Ford, as he jumped off the seat and held tightly to the reins. "Whoa!"

Grandpa's horses were kind and gentle and well-trained. They did not try to run away, but stood still after the sled was upset in the snow bank.

Russ was one of the first to get to his feet. He rolled out of the drift, shook himself as a dog does coming out of the water, and then looked about him.

"See if the others are all right!" called his grandfather to him. "I'll hold the horses. Get out Margy and Mun Bun and the others."

Russ, though not very big, was a sturdy young chap, and, seeing Mun Bun's legs sticking out from under a pile of blankets, he pulled on them. And, as Mun Bun was still fast to his legs, when Russ pulled on them he pulled his little brother out into view.

"Hi! Quit that! What you doin'?" Mun Bun wanted to know.

"I had to get you out," said Russ. "Where's Margy?"

Margy did not answer in words, but she did by crawling out from where she had been sitting next to Mun Bun.

Then out came Laddie, Vi and Rose, and all the six little Bunkers were accounted for.

"That drift was deeper than I thought it was," said Grandpa Ford. "The sled went up one side of it and just toppled over. It spilled you all out nice and easy."

And that is just what had happened. The sled had gone over on one side so slowly and gently that no one was caught under it. The six little Bunkers had been toppled out, still wrapped in the blankets in which they had ridden from Great Hedge.

"What are we going to do?" asked Russ. "How are we going to get home, Grandpa?"

"Well, I'll see about that in just a minute," answered Grandpa Ford. "I don't believe anything is broken. But I'll have to get help to lift the sled right side up again. Whoa, now, ponies!"

The horses, which Grandpa Ford called "ponies," just for fun, were turning to look at the overturned sled. The six little Bunkers stood in a row, also looking at what had happened.

"It wasn't the ponies' fault, was it, Grandpa?" asked Violet.

"No, dear. It was mine. I shouldn't have driven them into the bank of snow. But I thought it was soft so the sled runners would sink down in it. However, it was hard, and upset us. But we'll soon be all right. Whoa, now, ponies!"

The big basket of things Grandpa Ford had bought at the store for his wife had been spilled out of the sled when the upset came. However, nothing was damaged, and the children helped him pick up the scattered things, while Russ held the horses.

The animals had not fallen down when the sled upset, and were not tangled in the harness, so they did not try to run away. The reason for this was that the front runner of the sled, to which was fastened the tongue, or long pole, on either side of which the horses ran—the front runner, I say, remained straight on the ground. The sled seemed to have broken off from this front part in turning on its side.

"Yes, it's broken," said Grandpa Ford as he looked at the sled. "I shall have to get it mended before I can drive home again. It's too bad, but I'm glad none of you is hurt."

He let Russ hold the horses, which stood very still, and the small boy was very proud of having charge of the animals. Down the road stood a small house, which looked something like a log cabin.

"Could you get the sled fixed there, Grandpa Ford?" asked Russ, pointing to the cabin.

"No, I hardly think so. I need to go to a blacksmith shop for a bolt to use in place of one that is broken. But I know what I can do. I can leave you children in the cabin until I come back."

"Leave us there all alone?" asked Rose.

"Oh, no," replied Grandpa Ford. "Mr. and Mrs. Thompson live there. I'll leave you with Mrs. Thompson. She is very good and kind. She'll look after you. I'll get Mr. Thompson to help me turn the sled right side up, and then I'll go to the blacksmith shop and get a new bolt in place of the broken one."

"Will you have to walk?" asked Russ.

"No, I'll ride one of the horses."

"Oh! Could I ride the other?" begged Laddie eagerly.

"I'm afraid you're too little," said Grandpa Ford. "Besides, I want to ride fast on the back of Major. And if you rode on Prince, which is the other horse, he might jiggle you off into a snow bank.

"I think all you six little Bunkers had better stay at Mr. Thompson's cabin until I come back," went on Grandpa Ford. "I won't be any longer than I can help, and when I get the sled fixed we'll all ride home. I won't make my trip to the country as I was going to, as it will be too late."

"Can we get something to eat at the cabin?" asked Margy. "I'm hungry."

"Oh, I guess Mrs. Thompson has something to eat," laughed Grandpa Ford.

Grandpa unhitched the horses from the overturned sled and then started to drive them toward the cabin, which was the only house for some distance on that road. The six little Bunkers followed, the highway being well-packed with hard snow, so that walking was easy.

As the procession, led by Grandpa Ford driving the horses, approached the cabin, a door opened and a man came out.

"Had an accident, did you, Mr. Ford?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the children's grandfather. "My sled upset in a drift and spilled out my six little Bunkers. I also broke a bolt, and I shall have to ride to the blacksmith shop to get another. I was wondering if the children couldn't wait in your house until I came back."

"Of course they may!" exclaimed a motherly-looking woman, coming to the door behind her husband. "Bring them in, every one, and I'll give them some bread and milk. I have cookies, too, for I just baked to-day."

"I'm glad of that!" exclaimed Laddie, and the grown folks laughed at him because he said it so earnestly.

"Come right in!" went on Mrs. Thompson. "Are you cold?"

"Not very, thank you," answered Rose. "We had lots of blankets in the sled, and we didn't get much snow on us."

"Well, sit up by the fire, and I'll get you something to eat," said Mrs. Thompson.

"I'll put one of your horses in the stable while you ride to the blacksmith shop on the other," said Mr. Thompson, putting on his hat and overcoat, to go out where Grandpa Ford was waiting.

"Now, you'll be all right, little Bunkers!" called their grandfather to them, as he started away on the back of Major, who had been unharnessed. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mr. Thompson took Prince to his stable. There was a small one back of the cabin. I have called it a "cabin," though it really was a small house. But it was built like a log cabin, and was much smaller than the house at Great Hedge. It was clean and neat, and on a table covered with a bright red cloth, in front of a glowing fire in the stove, Mrs. Thompson set out some cups, some milk, a plate of bread and some cookies.

"Now come and eat," she said to the six little Bunkers.

They were just drawing up their chairs, and Russ was wondering how long his grandfather would be gone, when, all at once, a hollow groan sounded through the cabin.

"Umph! Urr-rumph!"

It was a most sorrowful and sad sound and, hearing it, Rose cried:

"Why, there's the ghost again! Oh, it's come from Great Hedge down to this house! There's the ghost!"

Again the hollow groan sounded.



CHAPTER XXIV

CHRISTMAS JOYS

Russ, who was about to take a bite out of a cookie that Mrs. Thompson had given him, stopped with the piece half-way to his mouth. He looked at Rose with wide-open eyes.

The other little Bunkers also looked at their sister, who had left her chair and was standing in the middle of the room.

"What did you say, my dear?" asked Mrs. Thompson.

Before Rose could answer again came a queer, hollow, groaning noise, that sounded, the children said afterward, "as if a sick bear had hidden down the cellar and couldn't get out."

Just what sort of noise a sick bear makes I don't know, for I never heard one. But this noise at any rate, must have been very strange.

"Umph! Umph! Urr-rumph!" it went.

"There it is!" cried Rose. "That's the ghost! It sounds just like the noise at Great Hedge, doesn't it, Russ?"

"It—it sounds something like it," Russ had to admit. "But there isn't a ghost—Daddy said so."

"A ghost, child! I should say not!" cried Mrs. Thompson. "Of course there is no such thing."

"But what makes the sound?" asked Russ. "Don't you hear it?"

"I hear it!" exclaimed Laddie.

"So do I," said Violet.

Mun Bun and Margy probably heard it, also, but they were too busy finishing their bread and milk to say anything. Probably they knew that Russ and Rose, who always looked after them, would take care of the strange noise.

"Oh, that noise!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson, as once more the hollow groan sounded, throughout the house. "You weren't afraid of that, were you?" And her eyes began to twinkle, then she laughed.

"A—a little," admitted Rose.

"It sounds like the cur'us noise at Great Hedge," added Russ.

"Well, I didn't know you had a curious noise at your grandfather's place," went on Mrs. Thompson. "First I ever heard of it."

"Oh, yes, there's a ghost there, only it isn't a ghost 'cause there's no such thing! Daddy said so!" exclaimed Rose. "But we got——"

"We've got a funny noise there," said Russ, breaking in on what his sister was saying. "It sounds like your noise, too."

"Well, there's nothing so very curious about this noise," laughed Mrs. Thompson. "That's only my husband playing on the big horn he used to blow when he was in the band. He hasn't used it much for years, and can't blow it as well as he used to. But that's what the noise is. Every once in a while he takes a notion and goes up into the attic and blows on the horn. I imagine he did it this time to amuse you children. I'll ask him.

"Jabez!" she called up the stairs that led to the small second story of the house. "Jabez! Is that you blowing the old bass horn?"

"Yes, Sarah, that's me," was the answer.

"Only I can't seem to blow it just right. Something appears to have got stopped up in the horn, or else maybe it's frozen. It doesn't blow like it used to."

"I should think it didn't!" laughed his wife. "Stop your tooting, and bring the horn down where the children can see it. Some of 'em thought it was a ghost, such as they have at Great Hedge. Did you ever hear of a ghost there?"

"Oh, I've heard some talk of it," answered Mr. Thompson, and now the six little Bunkers could hear him coming downstairs. He seemed to be carrying something large and heavy.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" asked his wife. "I like ghost stories."

"Oh, this isn't really a ghost," quickly explained Rose. "It's just a queer, groaning sound, and it comes in the middle of the night sometimes, and my daddy and grandpa can't find out what it is."

"Maybe it was Mr. Thompson blowing his horn," suggested Russ. "It sounded like that."

"Well, I'm sorry my playing sounds as bad as that," laughed Mr. Thompson, and then he came into the room where the children were, carrying a large brass horn, the kind that play the bass, or heavy, notes in a band. Putting his lips to the mouthpiece Mr. Thompson made the same "umph-umph!" sound that had so startled the children at first.

"Does that sound like the ghost?" he asked Russ.

"Just like it, only louder," was the answer.

"I wonder what it can be at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson. "I should think it would scare you dreadfully," she went on.

"Why, no," answered Rose. "But we want to find out what it is. So does my daddy and Grandpa Ford. We're going to help him, Russ and I, only every time we hear a funny noise it turns out to be Mun Bun falling out of bed, or an alarm clock beating a drum or something like that."

"Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson. "You must have great goings-on at Great Hedge!" She laughed when Russ and Rose told her of the different queer noises, each one turning out to be something that was only funny and easily explainable.

"Well, I'm sorry I startled you," said Mr. Thompson. "I sometimes take a notion to go off by myself and blow the old horn as I used to in the band when I belonged to it years ago. That wasn't here; it was in another village. But I had no idea I sounded like a ghost."

"Oh, it—it sounded nice after we knew what it was," said Rose, thinking Mr. Thompson's feelings might be hurt if they said they didn't like his horn.

"Well, I'll not blow it again while you're here," he said. "And now, unless I'm mistaken, I think I see your grandfather coming back. He'll soon have the sled fixed."

The six little Bunkers rushed to the window and saw Grandpa Ford riding down the road on the back of Major. Prince had been left in Mr. Thompson's barn. In a little while Russ and Rose were telling their grandfather about the queer noise of the bass horn.

"I never heard you had a ghost at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson to Grandpa Ford.

"Well, I call it a ghost for want of a better name," he replied. "It's just a noise, and I thought we would find out what it was before this, but we haven't. However, we don't worry about it. What do you think of my six little Bunkers?"

"I love them—each and every one," said Mrs. Thompson. "Let them come over and see me again."

"I will," promised Grandpa Ford.

"And I promise I won't play the horn for you," added Mr. Thompson, laughing.

He helped Mr. Ford fix the big sled, and soon it had been turned right side up, the horses were again hitched to it, and the children, after bidding their new friends good-bye, got in, and away they drove again, the merry bells jingling.

"Well, I wish we could find out what the queer noise is here at Great Hedge as easily as you children found out what the one was at the cabin," said Grandma Ford, when Russ and Rose and Laddie and Vi, by turns, had told her what had happened when Mr. Thompson blew his horn.

"Did the ghost sound while I was away?" asked Grandpa Ford.

"Yes, and louder than ever," said Mother Bunker. "We looked all over, but we couldn't find out what made the sound."

"Maybe it was Santa Claus," said Violet. "He's coming here, and maybe he's trying the chimney to see if it fits him."

"We thought of that before," said Rose. "But the noise sounded long before Santa Claus comes around. I'm sure it couldn't be him."

"But he's coming, anyhow," said Violet. "Grandpa said so, and I hope he brings me a new cradle for my doll."

"I want a new pair of skates," said Russ. "Mine are getting too small."

"I want a ship I can sail in the Summer, and a bigger sled," came from Laddie.

And so the children began to talk about Christmas, and what they wanted Santa Claus to bring them.

The weather was now cold and blowy and blustery, with a snowstorm nearly every day. But the six little Bunkers went out often to play, even if it was cold. They had lots of fun.

Now and again the queer noise would sound, but, though each time the grown folks went to look for it, they could not find it. It seemed to sound all through the house, almost like the blowing of Mr. Thompson's horn, only not so loud.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Grandpa Ford after one night's search, when nothing had been found, "this surely is a mystery!"

"I could make a riddle about it, only I'd never know the answer," said Laddie. "And a riddle without an answer is no good."

"That's very true!" said his grandfather, laughing.

The days passed. Christmas came nearer and nearer. There was to be a tree at Great Hedge, and the children were also going to hang up their stockings. Grandpa Ford and Daddy Bunker went out into the woods and cut the tree, which was placed in the parlor, and the doors shut.

"It wouldn't do for any of you to go in there from now on," said Mrs. Bunker. "You might surprise Santa Claus, and he doesn't like to be surprised."

Finally came Christmas Eve. The children listened to the reading of Bible stories as they sat before the fire, and then went early to bed so "morning would come quicker."

But, in spite of the fact that they wanted to go to sleep, it was some time before the older ones dropped off into Slumberland. Then, in the middle of the night, it seemed, there sounded throughout the house the sound of a horn being blown.

"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Rose, suddenly awakening and sitting up in bed. "Is that—is that the——"

"It's the horn of Santa Claus!" cried Mrs. Bunker. "Wake up! It's Christmas morning!"

And so it was.



CHAPTER XXV

THE GHOST AT LAST

"Merry Christmas!" called the six little Bunkers.

"Merry Christmas!" answered Grandpa and Grandma Ford and Daddy and Mother Bunker. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" called Dick as he tramped in from the barn, all covered with snow.

And such a jolly Christmas as it was! If each of the six little Bunkers did not get exactly what he or she wanted, all got something just as good.

There were toys, dolls, sleds, games and picture books. There was a magic lantern for Russ—something he had long wanted. There was a toy airship, that could be wound up and would fly, for Laddie. This he had wished for many times.

And the grown folks were not forgotten. There were fur-lined slippers for both Grandpa and Grandma Ford, a gold pin for Mother Bunker, and a new shaving set for Daddy Bunker. Dick had some new neckties, a pipe, and a pair of rubber boots.

"Just what I wanted!" he exclaimed.

And I wish you could have seen the Christmas tree! It was a beautiful one, and covered with colored balls that sparkled red, green, blue, and yellow in the candle light. It was wonderful!

"I wish I could try my new skates," said Russ. But this was a vain wish, as the ice on the pond, as well as the ground, was covered with snow.

"But we can have lots more rides now, 'cause I got my big new sled, and you can all take turns on it," said Laddie. "And, oh, I've thought of a new riddle!" he cried. "Why would your dress be good to go fishing with, Mother?" he asked.

"Why would my dress be good to go fishing with?" repeated Mrs. Bunker. "It wouldn't, Laddie. I wouldn't want to soil my nice dress by going fishing in it."

"Anyhow, what's that got to do with your new sled?" asked Russ.

"Nothing," answered Laddie. "Only I just happened to think of this riddle. Why would Mother's dress be good to go fishing with?"

"Well, why would it?" asked Grandma Ford. "I want to hear the answer, because I have to go out into the kitchen and see about getting the dinner. Why would your mother's dress be good for fishing with, Laddie?"

"'Cause it's got hooks on," he answered with a laugh. "I heard her ask you to hook it up this morning. Isn't that a good riddle?"

"Very good," answered Grandma Ford. "Now see if you can think of one about roast chicken, as that's what we're going to have for dinner. Get good and hungry, all of you."

"Better go out into the air and play a while," suggested Daddy Bunker. "That will give you good, healthy appetites."

So the six little Bunkers went out to play. It was not very cold, but Grandpa Ford said it looked as though there would be more snow.

"Then we can make more snow men!" shouted Russ. "And maybe I'll make an ice boat, too, when the snow melts so we can go on the pond."

Out in the snow rushed the six little Bunkers, and they had fun playing near the big hedge which gave Grandpa Ford's place its name.

When the children were romping about, sliding down a little hill they made, and tumbling about in the snow, along came Mr. Thompson.

"Merry Christmas!" he called to Russ, Rose and the others.

"Merry Christmas!" they answered.

Mun Bun and Margy, who had been making a little snow man all by themselves, stopped their play and walked toward the house.

"Where are you going?" asked Russ.

"I'm going to ask Grandma for a cookie," explained Mun Bun. "I'm hungry."

"So'm I," added Margy.

"Don't eat before dinner," advised Rose. "Save your 'hungry' for the roast chicken."

And Grandma Ford told the little ones the same thing, but they insisted that they wanted a cookie each, so she gave them one apiece, but they were rather small.

"Because," said Grandma, "I want you to eat my nice, brown, roast chicken."

And Mun Bun and Margy did. For, when dinner time came, they had as good appetites as any of the others. Every one seemed to be hungry, and, for a while, the sound of the clatter of the knives, forks and plates was louder than the talk.

After dinner they sat about the open fire on the big hearth in the living-room, and cracked nuts. Or, rather, Grandpa Ford cracked them and the children ate them.

"Wouldn't it be funny," began Russ, "if we should——"

And, just then, there suddenly sounded throughout the house that strange, groaning sound.

"O-u-g-h-m!"

It seemed louder than ever, and, for a moment, every one was startled. Mun Bun and Margy ran to their mother.

"Come on!" called Grandpa Ford to Daddy Bunker. "We must find out what that noise is. It has been going on long enough, and now to have it come when we are all so happy at Christmas time is too much! We must find where it is."

"Can't we help hunt?" asked Russ.

"Yes, let us, Mother, won't you?" added Rose.

"But what is it?" asked Laddie. "What makes the funny groaning noise?"

"Maybe Mr. Thompson is blowing his horn," said Vi.

The groaning noise kept up longer this time than ever before. Every few minutes it would echo through the house. Sometimes it sounded as though upstairs, and again down in the cellar.

"We'll try the attic," said Grandpa Ford.

He and Daddy Bunker went up there. Grandma Ford and Mother Bunker stayed in the sitting-room with Mun Bun and Margy.

"Come on!" called Russ to Rose. "Let's go and look."

Rose followed her brother.

"Want to come?" she asked Violet and Laddie.

"Yep," the twins said exactly together, just as twins should, I suppose.

Russ, Rose, Laddie and Vi walked slowly through the different downstairs rooms. In each one they listened. In some they could hear the noise more plainly than in others. Finally they came to the kitchen.

"It sounds plainer here," said Russ.

And, just then, the groan sounded so near at hand that Rose jumped and caught Russ by the arm.

"O-u-g-h-m!"

Again the groan sounded.

"It's over in there!" cried Laddie, pointing to a large storeroom opening out of the kitchen. The door of this room was open, and the noise, indeed, did seem to come from there.

"Let's go in!" suggested Russ, and he started toward it.

"Maybe you'd better call Grandpa and Daddy, and let them look," said Vi.

Just then Mother Bunker and Grandma Ford, followed by the two smallest children, came into the kitchen.

"Oh, we've found the ghost!" cried Rose to her mother. "It's in the storeroom! Listen!"

The two women listened. The groan sounded very plainly, and did seem to come from the room off the kitchen.

Grandma Ford walked in. All was quiet for a moment, and then the noise sounded again.

"I've found it!" cried Grandma Ford. "I've found the ghost at last!"

"What is it?" exclaimed Mother Bunker.

"I don't know exactly what makes it," said Grandma Ford; "but the noise comes out of this rain-water pipe under the window of the storeroom. We'll call Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford and have them look. But come in and listen, all of you."

With their mother the six little Bunkers went into the storeroom. Just as they entered the groan sounded loudly, and, as Grandma Ford said, it came from a rain-water pipe that ran slantingly under the window.

"That's the ghost!" cried Mother Bunker. "No wonder we couldn't find it. We never looked here before."

And when Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford came down out of the attic, where they had not been able to find the "ghost," though they heard the sound of it faintly there, they were told what the six little Bunkers had discovered with the help of Grandma Ford.

"Yes, the noise comes from the rain-water pipe," said Grandpa Ford, when he had looked and listened carefully.

"What makes it?" asked Daddy Bunker.

"Well, the pipe is broken, and partly filled with water from the rain or melted snow. There are also some dried leaves in the pipe. One end has sunk down and the wind blows across that and makes a hollow, groaning sound, just as you can make by blowing across the open mouth of a big, empty bottle. That was the ghost—the wind blowing across the broken water pipe."

"Yes, that is what made it," said Daddy Bunker, when he had taken a look and had listened again. "The sound comes loudest when the wind blows."

"The noise sounded, sometimes, when the wind didn't blow," said Grandpa Ford, as he took the pipe apart, "because of the dried leaves that were in it. The leaves became water-soaked, and were in a lump. Then, when this lump slid down it made a sort of choking sound like a pump that runs out of water. The wind blowing across the pipe, and the wet leaves sinking down, made the queer noises. I'm glad we've found out about them."

"But what made it blow all through the house?" asked Mother Bunker.

"Because there are rain-water pipes, or drain pipes, from the gutters on all sides of the house," explained her husband. "The pipes are connected, and the sound, starting in the broken pipe under the window in the storeroom, vibrated all around the house from the attic to the cellar. That ends the ghost, children."

And so it did, for when that pipe and some others were mended, and fastened together after being cleaned out, no more groans were heard. And so the "ghost" at Great Hedge was found to be nothing more than all ghosts are—something natural and simple.

"Now I can make a riddle about it," said Laddie. "I can ask why is a ghost like an umbrella?"

"Why is it?" asked Violet.

"'Cause it hid in a rain-water pipe. 'Course that isn't a very good riddle," admitted Laddie. "Maybe I'll think of a better one after a while."

"Well, it's good enough this time," laughed Grandpa Ford. "Now the ghost is 'laid,' as they call it, we'll have lots of fun at Great Hedge."

And so the children did. The Christmas holidays passed and New Year's came. The snow melted, and there was a chance for more skating and for rides in the ice boat. Russ kept his word and made one, but it upset more times than it sailed.

"I wonder what we'll do next Winter," said Rose, as she and Russ were sliding downhill one day.

"Summer comes before next Winter," he said. "Maybe we'll go visiting again."

And where the children went and what they did you may learn by reading the next volume of this series, to be called: "Six Little Bunkers at Uncle Fred's." He had a ranch out West and——

But there, I'll let you read the book for yourselves.

"Oh, but we're having lots of fun here," said Laddie that night, as he sat trying to think of a new riddle. "Lots of fun."

"And the best fun of all was finding the ghost that wasn't a ghost," said Russ.

And I think so myself. So, having been on many adventures with the six little Bunkers, we will leave them for a while.

THE END



This Isn't All!

Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book?

Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?

On the reverse side of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.

Don't throw away the Wrapper

Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog.



SIX LITTLE BUNKERS SERIES

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of The Bobbsey Twins Books, The Bunny Brown Series, The Blythe Girls Books, Etc.

* * * * *

Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

* * * * *

Delightful stories for little boys and girls which sprung into immediate popularity. To know the six little Bunkers is to take them at once to your heart, they are so intensely human, so full of fun and cute sayings. Each story has a little plot of its own—one that can be easily followed—and all are written in Miss Hope's most entertaining manner. Clean, wholesome volumes which ought to be on the bookshelf of every child in the land.

SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDMA BELL'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT AUNT JO'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COUSIN TOM'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDPA FORD'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT UNCLE FRED'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT CAPTAIN BEN'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COWBOY JACK'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MAMMY JUNE'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT FARMER JOEL'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MILLER NED'S SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT INDIAN JOHN'S

* * * * *

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

* * * * *



THE BUNNY BROWN SERIES

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of the Popular "Bobbsey Twins" Books, Etc

* * * * *

Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

* * * * *

These stories are eagerly welcomed by the little folks from about five to ten years of age. Their eyes fairly dance with delight at the lively doings of inquisitive little Bunny Brown and his cunning, trustful sister Sue.

BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON GRANDPA'S FARM BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE PLAYING CIRCUS BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CAMP-REST-A-WHILE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT AUNT LU'S CITY HOME BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE BIG WOODS BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON AN AUTO TOUR BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR SHETLAND PONY BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE GIVING A SHOW BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CHRISTMAS TREE COVE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE SUNNY SOUTH BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE KEEPING STORE BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR TRICK DOG BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT A SUGAR CAMP BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON THE ROLLING OCEAN BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON JACK FROST ISLAND

* * * * *

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK



THE BOBBSEY TWINS BOOKS

For Little Men and Women

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of "The Bunny Brown Series," Etc.

* * * * *

Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

* * * * *

These books for boys and girls between the ages of three and ten stands among children and their parents of this generation where the books of Louisa May Alcott stood in former days. The haps and mishaps of this inimitable pair of twins, their many adventures and experiences are a source of keen delight to imaginative children everywhere.

THE BOBBSEY TWINS THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORE THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SCHOOL THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SNOW LODGE THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A HOUSEBOAT THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT MEADOW BROOK THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT HOME THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN A GREAT CITY THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON BLUEBERRY ISLAND THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON THE DEEP BLUE SEA THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE GREAT WEST THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CEDAR CAMP THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE COUNTY FAIR THE BOBBSEY TWINS CAMPING OUT THE BOBBSEY TWINS AND BABY MAY

* * * * *

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK



* * * * *



Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's punctuation errors have been repaired.

THE END