The Indian mound looked as if somebody had made a nice symmetrical sand pile about twenty feet high out in the middle of the prairie and then grassed it over neatly. "If we could cut into it after the fashion of a birthday cake," said Captain Clarke, "you would find some very interesting things inside, I imagine, weapons and iron utensils. I should think Mr. Cook would take the trouble to explore it some day." "I guess he isn't interested in anything unless he sees a dollar close by," Ernest replied. They had dinner at the one decently kept hotel in Garland, and scattered along the comfortable veranda afterwards to rest and cool off. Ernest pointed out the place near the top of the bluff where a dark spot in the rocky ledge revealed the location of the hermit's cave. "Who is ready for the climb?" he asked, rejoining the others. "I pass," said Dick from the depths of a willow porch chair. "And I," Marian echoed. "I am just dying to go, Ernest, but it wouldn't be proper for me to desert my liege Lord." Alice shot a mischievous glance at the occupant of the willow chair. "I couldn't think of leaving our guests," Frank stopped smoking long enough to say. "Put it to a vote, Ernest, and save us the trouble of inventing excuses," remarked the Captain dryly. "Resolved--That we stay right where we are until train time. All in favor----" He was not permitted to continue. A chorus of "Ayes" drowned him out, the Captain leading. And they stayed until train time. "What is it," queried Ernest as they started homeward, "about a railroad train that makes one so crazy to go along?" "Is it the train, or merely your love of adventure?" suggested Captain Clarke. "I think it's because a train always seems so--oh, jolly--and exciting," ventured Katy. "That's only part," said Chicken Little, who had been studying; "it's wondering what's at the other end of the track that tempts you so." "Pooh, I know what's at the other end of this track and it tempts me like sixty." "Home?" Katy and Jane asked together. "No, supper!" CHAPTER XIII CHICKEN LITTLE AND ERNEST The household was awakened in the middle of the night by peals of thunder and the rush of rain against the windows. Chicken Little was drenched before she could get the window down next their bed. "I don't care," she said, as she hunted out a dry gown, "it's raining and Ernest can go to college." They slept late the following morning. The rain was coming down in a steady, business-like way that gladdened the heart of every farmer on the creek. Dr. Morton was jubilant. "This will save the corn and make thousands of dollars difference in the hay yield in the country," he remarked at the breakfast table. "That's what I don't like about farming," said Ernest. "So much depends on things that you can't help. A man can work like a dog, and along comes a drouth or chinch bugs or too much rain during the haying season and, presto, all his fond hopes are knocked sky high."