And that, indeed, is almost what happened. For, looking back, Mr. and Mrs. Bunker, saw Laddie hanging by his hands to the branch of a tree he had grasped as the wagon passed beneath it. The little fellow was swinging over the roadway, the wagon having passed from beneath him. “Hold on, Laddie! I’ll come back and get you!” shouted Mr. Bunker. “In mischief again!” murmured Russ. “Whoa!” called Adam, bringing the horses to a halt. “Hold on, Laddie! I’ll come and get you!” called Mr. Bunker again, as he leaped from the hay wagon. “I—I can’t hold on!” gasped Laddie. “My—my hands are slipping!” The green branch was slowly bending over and Laddie’s hands were slipping from it. Then, when he could keep his grasp no longer, he let go, and down to the ground he fell, feet first. Luckily Laddie was only a short distance above the ground when he slipped from the branch, so he did not have far to fall. He was only jarred and shaken a little bit—not hurt at all. “Laddie, why did you do that?” his father asked him, when he had reached the little fellow and picked him up. As Mr. Bunker carried Laddie back to the waiting wagon Russ remarked: “I guess he thought maybe he could pull a tree up by the roots when he caught hold of the branch like that.” “I did not!” exclaimed Laddie. “I just wanted to pull off a whip for Mun Bun to play horse with. But when I got hold of the branch I forgot to let go and it lifted me right out of the wagon.” “It’s a mercy you weren’t hurt!” exclaimed his mother. “I should say so!” added Farmer Joel. “It’s safer for you to think up riddles, Laddie, than it is to do such tricks as that. Come now, sit quietly in the wagon and think of a riddle.” “All right,” agreed Laddie, as again he took his place in the straw with the other little Bunkers. But he did not ask any riddles for a long time. Perhaps he had been too startled. For surely it was rather a startling thing to find himself dangling on a tree branch, the wagon having gone out from under him. However, in about fifteen minutes more Laddie suddenly cried: “Oh, now I know a riddle! Why is a basket——” But before he could say any more the other children broke into cries of: “There’s the picnic ground! There’s the picnic ground!” And, surely enough, they had reached the grove in the woods where lunch was to be eaten and games played. It was a beautiful day of sunshine, warm and pleasant. Too warm, in fact, for Mrs. Bunker had to call to the children several times: “Don’t run around too much and get overheated. It is very warm, and seems to be getting warmer.” “Yes,” agreed Farmer Joel, as he looked at the sky. “I think we’ll have a thunder shower before the day is over.” “We didn’t bring any umbrellas,” said Mrs. Bunker. “If it rains very hard we can take shelter in a cave not far from here that I know of,” said Mr. Todd.