It's Monday.
Chapter nineteen: INDIAN JANBOREE
Winter ended at last. There was a softer note in the sound of the wind, and the bitter cold was gone. One day Pa said he had seen a flock of wild geese flying north. It was time to take his furs to Independence. Ma said that the Indians were so near. Pa said that they were perfectly friendly. He often met Indians in the woods where he was hunting. There was nothing to fear from Indians. Ma said no. But Laura knew that Ma was afraid of Indians. She said to Pa that he must go and they must have a plow and seeds, and he would soon be back again. Before dawn next morning Pa hitched Pet and Patty to the wagon, loaded his furs into it, and drove away. Laura and Mary counted the long, empty days. One, two, three, four, and still Pa had not come home. In the morning of the fifth day they began earnestly to watch for him. It was a sunny day. There was still a little chill in the wind, but it smelled of spring. The vast blue sky resounded to the quacks of wild ducks and the honk-honk honking of wild geese. The long, black-dotted lines of them were all flying north. Laura and Mary played outdoors in the wild, sweet weather. And poor Jack watched them and sighed. He couldn’t run and play any more, because he was chained. Laura and Mary tried to comfort him, but he didn’t want petting. He wanted to be free again, as he used to be. Pa didn’t come that morning; he didn’t come that afternoon. Ma said it must have taken him a long time to trade his furs. That afternoon Laura and Mary were playing hop-scotch. They marked the lines with a stick in the muddy yard. Mary really didn’t want to hop; she was almost eight years old and she didn’t think that hop-scotch was a ladylike play. But Laura teased and coaxed, and said that if they stayed outdoors they would be sure to see Pa the minute he came from the creek bottoms. So Mary was hopping.
