It's Saturday.
Once the shadow floated across the grass, and every gopher vanished. A hawk was sailing overhead. It was so close that Laura saw it’s cruel round eye turned downward to look at her. She saw its sharp beak and its savage claws curled ready to pounce. But the hawk saw nothing but Laura and Mary and round, empty holes in the ground. It sailed away, looking somewhere else for its dinner. Then all the gophers came up again. It was nearly noon then. The sun was almost overhead. So Laura and Mary picked flowers from the weeds, and they took the flowers to Ma, instead of a gopher. Ma was folding the dry clothes. The little panties and petticoats were whiter than snow, warm from the sun, and smelling like the grass. Ma laid them in the wagon, and took the flowers. She admired equally the flowers that Laura gave her and the flowers that Mary gave her, and she put them together in a tin cup full of water. She set them on the wagon-step, to make the camp pretty. Then she split two cold corn-cakes and spread them with molasses. She gave one to Mary and one to Laura. That was their dinner, and it was very good. Laura asked Ma where a papoose was. Ma asked Laura not to speak with her mouth full. So Laura chewed and swallowed, and she said that she wanted to see a papoose. Ma asked Laura whatever made her want to see Indians, and she told Laura that they would see enough of Indians which were more than they wanted to, and she wouldn’t wonder. Mary asked if the Indians would hurt them. Mary was always good; she never spoke with her mouth full. Ma answered no and asked her not to get such an idea in her head. Laura asked why Ma didn’t like Indians, and she caught a drip of molasses with her tongue. Ma said that she just didn’t like them and asked Laura not to lick her fingers. Laura said that it was Indian country and if they didn’t like Indians why they came to Indians country.
