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He and Russ began to make the queer carriage in which Margy was to ride. Perhaps you may have seen them in Indian pictures. A long pole is fastened on either side of a horse, being tied to the edge of the saddle. The ends drag behind the horse on the ground, and between these poles is a platform, or a piece of bagging ...
It took Russ and Laddie longer than they thought it would to make the Indian carriage for Margy. But at last it was finished, and there, dragging behind Russ's pony, were the two long poles, and a bag was tied between them for Margy to sit on.
"All aboard!" cried Laddie, when it was finished.
"Hey! This isn't a ship! You don't say all aboard!" exclaimed Russ.
"What do you say?"
"Well, you say get in, or something like that. Not 'all aboard!' That's only for boats or maybe trains."
"Well, get in, Margy," said Laddie. "Russ will ride ahead and pull you, and I'll ride behind, just as if I was another Indian. That's what we'll play -- Indian!" he said.
"All right," agreed Russ.
"Oh, this is fun!" exclaimed Margy, when she was seated in the Indian carriage and Russ's pony was pulling her about the field. "I like it."
Indeed she was having a nice ride, though it was rather bumpy when the dragging poles went over stones or holes in the ground. But Margy did not mind that, for the bag seat in which she was cuddled was nice and soft.
Once one of the poles, which were fastened to the pony with pieces of clothesline, came loose, and the pony walked around dragging only one, so that Margy was spilled out. But the grass was soft, and she only laughed at the accident.
Russ tied the pole back again, and then he and Laddie rode around the field, Margy being dragged after them, just as, in the olden days, the real Indians used to give their squaws and papooses a ride from one part of the country to another.
"I guess the ponies are tired now," said Laddie, as he noticed his walking rather slowly. "Maybe we'd better give them a rest."
"I guess so," agreed Russ. "We'll let 'em rest in the shade of the tree."
So they rode their ponies into the shade and left them standing there, the boys themselves running around in the grass, to "stretch their legs," as their father used to call it.
"Margy's asleep," said Russ, as he got down from his pony and saw that his little sister's eyes were closed, as she lay cuddled up in the bag between the two trailing poles. "We'll let her sleep while we play tag."
And so Margy slept in the Indian carriage, while Russ and Laddie raced about the big field. Then they forgot all about Margy, for they heard Rose calling to them:
"Russ! Laddie! Do you want some of my pie? I baked it all myself in Bill Johnson's oven!"
"Oh, her pie is done!" cried Laddie.
"Come on! Let's get some!" added Russ.
Then the two boys, forgetting all about Margy sleeping in the Indian carriage, ran out of the field, leaving the ponies behind them, and leaving their little sister also.
"Is it a real pie?" asked Russ, as he reached the ranch house, in front of which stood Rose.
"Course it is," she answered.
"And has it got a crust, and things inside, like Norah makes?" Laddie wanted to know.
"Course it has," declared Rose. "Come on, I'll give you some."
They went out to the kitchen where Bill Johnson was busy. He greeted the boys with a laugh.
"That little sister of yours is some cook!" exclaimed the cook. "She can make a pie almost as good as I can, and it took me a good many years to learn."
"Let's see the pie!" demanded Russ.
"Here 'tis!" exclaimed Rose. "We set it out on the window sill to cool," and she brought in what seemed like a very nice pie, indeed.
And it was good, too, as the boys said after they had tasted it. True, it was made of canned peaches, but then you can't get fresh peaches on a Western ranch in early summer. Canned ones did very well.
"Could I have another piece?" asked Laddie, finishing his first.
"Well, a little one," said Rose. "I want to save some for Margy -- -- Oh, where is Margy?" she suddenly cried. "I forgot all about her, and Mother said I was to watch her! Oh, where is she?"
Rose started up in alarm, but Laddie said:
"Margy is all right. She came over where me and Russ -- I mean, Russ and I -- were riding our ponies, and we made an Indian carriage for her," and he explained what they had done.
"But where is she now?" Rose demanded.
"She's asleep over there," Russ said slowly, and pointed to the big field.
"Let's go and get her, and we'll take her this piece of pie," proposed Laddie. "If she doesn't want it I'll eat it."
"No, I will!" cried Russ. "You've had two pieces."
"Margy will want it all right!" declared Rose. "She likes pie. I'm going to make another some day."
Carrying Margy's piece of pie, the three little Bunkers went over to the field where the ponies had been left. On the way Russ told Rose more about the queer Indian carriage he had made.
"Will it hold me?" Rose asked.
"Yes, and I'll give you a ride after Margy wakes up," Russ promised. "I'll get some more poles for Laddie's pony and he can ride Vi and I'll ride you."
"Oh, won't that be fun!" cried Rose.
But when they reached the field where the ponies had been left a sad surprise awaited them. Neither of the two little creatures were to be seen, and there was no sign of Margy or the queer Indian carriage either.
"Oh, they -- they're gone!" gasped Russ.
"Both ponies!" added Laddie.
"And where's Margy?" asked Rose, holding the piece of pie in her hand.
"She's gone, too," said Russ. "Oh, dear!"
"Maybe the Indians came and took her," said Laddie.
"I don't see any Indians," and Russ shook his head.