Mother was as cross as she ever gets. Right there she made a new rule, and it was that two dozen eggs must be brought to the house each day, whether any were hidden or not. She had to stop baking until she got eggs. She said a few times she had used a goose egg in custard. I could fix that. I knew where one of our gray geese had a nest, and if she'd cook any goose egg, it would be a gray one. Of course I had sense enough not to take a blue one. So I slipped from the east door, crossed the yard and orchard corner, climbed the fence and went down the lane. There was the creek up and tearing. It was half over the meadow, and the floodgate between the pasture and the lane rocked with the rush of water; still, I believed I could make it. So I got on the fence and with my feet on the third rail, and holding by the top one, I walked sidewise, and so going reached the floodgate. It was pretty wobbly, but I thought I could cross on the run. I knew I could if I dared jump at the other end; but there the water was over the third rail, and that meant above my head. It was right at that time of spring when you felt so good you thought you could do most anything, except fly--I tried that once--so I went on. The air was cold for all the sun shone, the smell of catkin pollen, bursting buds, and the odour of earth steaming in the sun, was in every breath; the blackbirds were calling, and the doves; the ganders looked longingly at the sky and screamed a call to every passing wild flock, and Deams' rooster wanted to fight all creation, if you judged by the boasting he was doing from their barnyard gate. He made me think of eggs, so I set my jaws, looked straight ahead, and scooted across the floodgate to the post that held it and the rails of the meadow fence. I made it too, and then the fence was easy, only I had to double quite short, because the water was over the third rail there, but at last it was all gone, and I went to the fence corner and there was the goose on the nest, laying an egg. She had built on a little high place, among puddles, wild rose bushes, and thorns, and the old thing wouldn't get off. She just sat there and stuck out her head and hissed and hissed. I never noticed before that geese were so big and so aggravating. I wasn't going to give up, after that floodgate, so I hunted a big stick, set it against her wing, pushed her off and grabbed three eggs and ran. When I got to the fence, I was in a pickle for sure. I didn't know what in the world to do with the eggs.