Six Little Bunkers at Cowboy Jacks | Page 3

thunder."
Rose looked a bit doubtful over that statement. But she knew it was her
duty to help the younger children forget their fears. She started down
the steep stairs behind Russ. Laddie and Margy came next, while Vi
was helping short-legged little Mun Bun to reach the stairway.
And it was just then that the very awful "thunder stroke" came. It
seemed to burst right over the roof, and the flash of lightning that came
with it almost blinded the children. There was even a smell of
sulphur--just like matches. Only it was a bigger smell than any sulphur
match could make.
The children's cries were drowned by the crash outside. The lightning
had struck a big old tree that overhung the house. The tree trunk was
splintered right down from the top, and before the sound of the thunder
died away the broken-off part of that tree fell right across the roof.
How the old house shook! Such a ripping and tearing of shingles as
there was! Rose could not stifle her shriek. She and Margy and Laddie
came tumbling down the rest of the stairs behind Russ.
"Where's Vi and Mun Bun?" demanded the oldest of the six little
Bunkers, staring up the dust-filled stairway.

"Oh! Oh! Help me up!" shrieked Vi from the attic.
"Help me!" cried Mun Bun, very much frightened too. "Somebody is
holding me down."
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Rose, wringing her hands and looking at
Russ. "That old roof has fallen in and Vi and Mun Bun are caught
under it!"
CHAPTER II
VERY EXCITING NEWS
The old house was still groaning and shaking under the impact of the
lightning-smitten tree. It seemed, indeed, as though the whole roof was
broken in and that gradually the house must be flattened down into the
cellar. Dust and bits of broken wood and plaster were showering down
the open stairway.
Although the house might be falling, Russ felt he had to go up those
stairs to the aid of the shrieking Vi and Mun Bun. They were both
caught under some of the fallen rubbish, and it was Russ Bunker's duty,
if nothing more, to aid the younger children.
Russ did not often shirk his duty. Being the oldest of the six Bunker
children, he felt his responsibility more than other boys of his age
might have done. Anyway, when the others needed help, Russ's first
thought was to aid. He was that kind of boy, as all the readers of this
series of stories know very well.
Almost always Russ Bunker was not far from a set of carpenter's tools,
of which he was very proud, or from other means of "making things."
His brothers and sisters thought him quite wonderful when it came to
planning new means of amusement and building such things as play
automobiles and boats and steam-car trains. It was quite impossible for
Russ now, however, to think up any invention that would help his small
sister and brother out of their trouble in the attic of the old house. He
was quite helpless.

Nine-year-old Russ Bunker was an inventive, cheerful lad, almost
always with a merry whistle on his lips, and quite faithful to the trust
his parents imposed in him regarding the well-being of his younger
brothers and sisters.
With Rose, who was a year younger than Russ, the boy really took
much of the care in the daytime of the other little Bunkers. The older
ones really had to do this--or else there would have been no fun for any
of them. You see, if the older children in a family will not care for the
younger, and cheerfully look after them, there can never be so much
freedom and fun to enjoy as these six little Bunkers had.
Rose was a particularly helpful little girl, and, being eight years old
now, she could assist Mother Bunker a good deal; and she took pride in
so doing. That she was afraid of "thunder strokes" must not be counted
against her. Ordinarily she made the best of everything and was of a
sunny nature.
The twins, Violet and Fillmore, came next in the group of little Bunkers.
These two had their own individual natures and could never be
overlooked for long in any party. Violet was much given to asking
questions, and she asked so many and steadily that scarcely anybody
troubled to answer her. Her twin, called Laddie by all, had early made
up his mind that the greatest fun in the world was asking and answering
riddles.
Margy's real name was Margaret, and, as we have seen, Mun Bun had
named himself (just for ordinary purposes) when he was very small.
Not that he was very large now, but he could make a tremendous
amount of