St Peters Academy - Veritas Yearbook (Saratoga Springs, NY)

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loose between the hutch and the vacant lot behind. Frantically, Bunky squeezed through the gate. One glance through the door of the little house indicated that it was empty. Without hesitating a moment he tore away the loose plank and struggled through to the vacant lot. The nibbled peaks of grass showed that they had strolled through there, but now they weren't anywhere in sight. After ten minutes of tiresome searching for tracks, he sat down dejectedly on an old mossy tree stump. How many steps had he taken to feed those rabbits? Now they had decided to play a trick on him at the last minute. He had always pulled against work and argued that it didn't pay, and now he was sure of it. He propped his elbows on his boney knee and cupped his chin in his hands, gazing with utter discouragement before him. Then he started suddenly, for his glance had fallen on a rabbit track imprinted neatly in the muddy road. A heavy rain having fallen the night before, Bunky had no difhculty now in tracing the tracks down the bumpy, marshmallowy road. The tracks revealed that the rabbits had skillfully turned otlj into Farmer Rowlandls corn field. Seating himself again he gloomily watched a number of crows filling their stomachs with the far- merls prize crop of corn. He couldnit bother to frighten them away. The old farmer ought to have gathered his corn long ago if he hadn't wanted it eaten! Then suddenly a thought came to Bunky that gave him an uncomfortable pang. What was the difference in his neglecting his fence and the farmerls leaving his corn there for the crows to eat? For the first time he began to realize that the rabbits were not to blame for their escape but that it was all his own fault. 'Gradually, Bunky saw things from the rabbits, point of view. Then he became still more thoughtful; if he had escaped where would he desire to go? Standing up he surveyed the surrounding plot of the farmerls field. Back of him was the town; in front and to the right of him was Mr. Rowlandls farm, and to the left, the woods and the creek. It was only then that he remembered that he had failed to give the rabbits any fresh water the day before. Naturally theyld be thirsty and head for the creek. Hastening down the rows of rustling, brown corn to the creek he searched in the soft oozing mud for tracks that might indicate their whereabouts. Before his eyes he found some tiny prints that led for some distance down the creek, then back across the field toward the farmefs garden. Bunky didnlt stop for tracks now, but ran on toward the garden. One sickening glance within showed him xthe rrabbits, feasting with gluttony on Farmer Rowland,s fall lettuce. He succeeded in finding the hole through which they had most likely entered, and stopped it up with wadded newspaper before he attempted catching them. He had just seized one by its big, floppy ears when suddenly a loud, angry voice hailed him from the garden gate. . llHey, what you doing there, you young upstart? yelled Farmer Rowland, brandishing a hoe threateningly at the frightened boy. i In his sudden fright Bunky let the rabbit escape. Cat catching my rabbits! They got out on me! The farmer peered over the gate, hunting out the destruction the rabbits had done be- fore he replied. IlWell, you needn,t bother to catch 'em, he said, coming into the garden. 1,11 catch em and eat Iem to pay for ruining my good lettuce. Bunky turned suddenly sick at heart. Would the farmer be so cruel as to take his prize rab- bits to pay -for the old lettuce? Was all his labor over them to be in vain? Stunned, he stood on the edge of the lettuce row while with loud yells and a waving hoe lVIr. Rowland frightened the ra Hhits to a far end of the garden and into a secluded,shady corner. ler. Rowland, please don't take my rabbits, pleaded Bunky when the old man came grum- bling back to look at the destruction. uI was going to put them in the fair e I'm sure theyld get a prize. They slipped out through a loose plank at the back of the hutch. HBut where do I come in ?'1 growled the farmer, his voice a little moderated, however. lVIy let- tuce is ruined, and I was intending to take it tomarket next week. uBut I couldnlt help - I meaneerf floundered Bunky, as he suddenly recalled that he could have prevented it had he mended the fence. uI'll tell you what 111 .do, bargained the farmer. Ill'll let you keep your rabbits if youlll re- plant the row they ruined. Itls too late for newlettuce now, but you can put in turnips insteadfl Glad of anything that would save his rabbit s, Bunky said, H0k sir - itls a bargain!

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llRAllEullPalliCIlf CIlRDllllllBullbllB$ PATRICIA TOTTEN The sun beamed through the neatly curtained window and found its destination on the tousled head of an eight year old boy. Bunky Farrell turned over in bed and drew the blanket closer about him. The September morning had just enough tang in it to make a blanket a thing of luxury, and Bunky had the comfortable awareness that it was Saturday morning and he didn't have to go to school. An agitating sound, however, drifted up from the back yard, flustering his comfort. He pushed the cover from around his freckled ears and listened. Someone was hammering on the boards of his rabbit hutch. Why did things always have to happen to keep a fellow from sleeping on Satur- day mornings. Hadnlt he earned the right to sleep after slaving over a school desk all week The hammering on the fence continued incessantly and at last Bunky crept down to the foot of the bed and peered out of the window. It was that old N111 Davis from next door nailing up the planks where they had ripped IQOse between the hutch and his garden. Bunky,s prize white rabbits, Amos and Andy ,at least thatls what he called them, had broken into the neighbors, garden several times Each time, Bunky had patched up the fence a little, not taking time to repair it thoroughly. Hl thought the o d fence would surely hold till I could get the rabbits out to the fair today, mused Bunky, as he ducked back under the cover. He was a firm believer in the saving of enelgy and had seen no necessity in fixing the fence when he intended conveying the rabbits out to the fairgrounds that very morning. The joy of his nap, however, had been spoiled. For a time he lay there staring goggle-eyed at the ceiling, having made up his mind to stay in bed late even if he couldnlt possibly sleep. He must have his rabbits ready, though, to take out to the fairgrounds by eleven o,clock. His Uncle Jerry was to have some poultry on display, and was coming in his jalopy to take Bunky and his rab- bits out. He had planned to spend the rest of the day in the delightful occupation of watching the carnival shows unload and put up their tents. The privilege of getting into the fair grounds when preparations were being made was one to which he had looked forward for several weeks. Bunky was wide-awake now, his mind busy with dreams of what he Would do with the prize money Amos and Andy were sure to win. ' The hammering had finally ceased. From the kitchen drifted the delightful fragrance of fryn ing bacon. He was out of bed at a bound. If there was one thing he craved better on a chilly morning than a cozy bed, it was a hearty breakfast. Bunky slipped casually into a pair of wrinkled dungarees, put on his shoes, and' took but a momentto greet the friendly croaking frog, in a box, under his bed. HWhat would lMom say if she knew, he chuckled. HNIorning Mom, whats on the menu today, he said as his father often did. uGood morning, Bunky, she chanted, uAnymore fugitives from menageries under your bed this morning. lAw gee Mom, how'd you find out, whimpered Hunky. liCanit I keep him lVIom, huh, lVIomfl I'm sorry Bunky, we're not operating a zoo. Bunky surrendered willingly. It was too nice a day to sulk, and besides he had to take care of his rabbits. He made sure that his neighbor had gone to work before he ventured out to the rabbit hutch. As he hastened through the back yard, over ti ncans and stray papers, his heart produced a queer thump, for there was 'no joyous squealing to greet his approach. Evidently, Mr. Davis had fright- ened them with his incessant pounding so that they were in hiding. Bunky had salvaged a fine bunch of turnips for their last meal before going to the fair. He had an uneasy feeling within him that he wasn't always too faithful about feeding them though he couldnlt bear the thought of any- thing going hungry. Opening the wire gate he thrust in his turnips, but there came no answering squeal of joy. The rabbits failed to account for themselves. Bunkysighed bitterly as he perceived the loose plank at the hack of the hutch. The fence on Mr. Daviss side had been neatly patched, but a plank was

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HYou catch the rabbits and put 'em in that box outside the gate while I go get the seed and the tools, directed Kit. Rowland. Bunky had just finished placing a board over the top of the box of rabbits, when on the still air he heard the court house ClOCk striking eleven.Bunky got all hot inside as he suddenly remembered that he was to have driven to the fair at that hour in his Uncle Jerryis car. Now he hadn't the faint- est idea of how he was going to get his rabbits to the fair. After all, he couldnlt very well run out on the farmer after all the destruction his pets had caused. Even after he had finished planting the turnips, he'd have to scrub the stick creek mud off the fuzzy fur of his two rabbits. If only he had fixed that broken down fence the day before, he wouldn't be having all this trouble. He had just piled the spoiled lettuce at the end of the row when on the road at the foot of the wheat laden hill he heard the heavy rumble of a wagon and the tramp of horses. It was the glorious carnival show, cutting across from the railroad yards to the fair grounds. How the freckled face beamed and how his heart longed to be a part of this touring caravan! But if he expected to get through with the work and get his rabbits there before the entries were closed, he couldn't stop work for a minute. e ' During the two hours that Bunky toiled on the turnip patch, he endured torments of longing. From the road at the foot of the hill came the constant sound of men calling to their horses and the rumble of wagons. With intense determination he stuck to his task. He had spread the last hit of earth over the seed when the farmerls voice hailed him noisily. HCome on and cat a snack of dinner, he called hospitably. uYou can 'hnish up afterwards, if you arenlt through. Havenlt time, replied Bunky gloomily, as he leaned the hoe and rake against the tree. Got to get In rabbits out to the fair. I'll have to 0 ti ht home and wash em up and try to get some- Y E g one to take me out to the grounds. lIWell, why don't you come along with me, invited the farmer. ITm entering two of my best hogs and there'll be room in the wagon for you and your rabbits. I,m expecting to go as soon as I finish my dinner. Would you really let me go with you! exclaimed Bunky gaily. And could I wash up my rabbits out there at your well? uCertainly. A fellow that can work as hard as you did this morning to save his rabbits ought to be allowed to get ,em in the fair. Bunky had telephoned his mother before he began work on the turnips. He called again to tell her he was going out to the fair with Farmer Rowland. As he stood at the telephone, the delicious scent of the country dinner made him realize how hungry he really was. When they had eaten to complete content, the farmer pushed back his chair and said, Well son, I think we'll hitch up and get on out to the grounds. Bunky slid from the chair he occupied at the table and disappeared through the copper screened door. He skipped across the garden being extra careful not to step on the plants and found his way to the box where Amos and Andy were being held captives. Bunky earefullyltook the lid off the box and the farmer heard him sigh, Well honest lnjun - jumpinl grasshopper. Guess I'll have to change Andy's name. Seems as though I got more rabbits than what I started out with. There, snuggled in the bottom of the grass tilled box were three tiny white, pink eyed rabbits. Bunky strode up over the field with the box tucked under his arm, and Farmer Rowland could faint- ly make out these words, Wee whillakers Andy, all you bring me is trouble, trouble, and more trou- ble. '