“It’s a good thing I got in my hay,” said Farmer Joel, as he went to bed that night. “Now I can sleep in peace.” For there is nothing more worrying to a farmer than to hear it rain, knowing it is spoiling his hay. Hay, once wet, is never quite so good as that which has not been soaked. Though it rained all night, the sun came out the next day, and the six little Bunkers could play about and have fun. Russ and Laddie were glad of the storm, for the rain had made the brook higher, and water was now for the first time running over the little dam they had made so their water wheel could be turned. “She’ll splash like anything now!” cried Laddie, as he and his brother hastened down to the brook. The water wheel was made of some flat pieces of wood fastened together and set in a frame work. The water, spouting over the dam, fell on the blades of the paddle wheel and turned it. On the axle of the wheel was a small, round pulley, and around this there was a string, or a belt, running to a small mill that the boys had made. It had taken them quite a while to do this. “Now watch her whizz!” cried Russ to his brothers and sisters, who had gathered on the bank of the brook. The water wheel was shoved back so the overflow from the dam would strike the paddles. Around they went, turning the pulley, moving the string belt, and also turning the wheel of the “mill.” “Oh, isn’t that fine!” exclaimed Rose. “Could I have a ride on it?” Mun Bun wanted to know. “Hardly!” laughed Russ. “If you sat on it the wheel would break.” “And you’d get all wet!” added Rose. The six little Bunkers had much fun that day, and more good times were ahead of them, for that evening when they made ready for bed, tired but happy, their mother said: “To-morrow we are going on a picnic to the woods.” “A really, truly picnic?” Vi wanted to know. “Of course.” “With things to eat?” asked Russ. “Surely,” said his mother. “Now off to bed with you! Up early, and we’ll have a fine picnic in the woods.” You may be sure that not one of the six little Bunkers overslept the next day. Bright and early they were up, and soon they started for the picnic grounds in the big hay wagon, on which some straw had been scattered to make soft seats. “I wonder if anything will happen to-day?” said Rose to Russ, as they rode off with their lunches. “What do you mean?” he inquired. “I mean anything like an adventure.” “Oh, maybe we’ll find a—snake!” and Russ laughed as he saw his sister jump, for Rose did not like snakes. “You’re a horrid boy!” she murmured. But an adventure quite different from finding a snake happened to the six little Bunkers. CHAPTER XVII THE ICE CAVE