Tattine | Page 9

here and there in the sunshine. Nests everywhere,
and Tattine on one long voyage of discovery, until she knew where at
least twenty little bird families were going to crack-shell their way into
life. But there was one little family of whose whereabouts she knew
nothing, nor anyone else for that matter, until "Hark, what was
that?"--Mabel and Rudolph and Tattine were running across the end of
the porch, and it was Rudolph who brought them to a standstill.
"It's puppies under the piazza, that's what it is," declared Tattine;
"where ever did they come from, and how ever do you suppose they got
there?"
"I think it's a good deal more important to know how you'll ever get
them out," answered Rudolph, who was of a practical turn of mind.
"I'll tell you what," said Tattine thoughtfully, "shouldn't wonder if they
belong to Betsy. I've seen her crowding herself through one of the
air-holes under the piazza several times lately," whereupon the children
hurried to peer through the air hole. Nothing was to be seen, however,
for the piazza floor was not more than a foot and a half from the ground,
and it was filled with all sorts of weeds that flourished without sunshine.
Still the little puppy cries were persistently wafted out from some
remote corner, and, pulling off his jacket, Rudolph started to crawl in
and investigate. It did not seem possible that he could make his way,
for the place was not high enough for him even to crawl on his hands
and knees, and he had rather to worm himself along on his elbows in
quite indescribable fashion. Still, Tattine and Mabel were more than
ready to have him try, and waited patiently, bending over with their

hands upon their knees, and gazing in through the weed-grown hole in
breathless, excited fashion.
"I believe I'll have to give it up," Rudolph called back; "the cries seem
as far off as ever and I'm all but scratched to pieces." "Oh, don't! don't!"
cried Tattine and Mabel, in one breath, and Mabel added, "We MUST
know what they are and where they are. I shall go in myself if you
come out."
"Well, you wouldn't go more than three feet then, I can tell you," and
Rudolph was right about that. It was only because he hated to give the
thing up, even more than the girls hated to have him, that made him
persevere. "Well, here they are at last!" he cried exultingly, a few
moments later; "one, two three, four of them, perfect little beauties too.
And they must belong to Betsy; they're just like her."
"Bring one out, bring one out!" called both the children, and fairly
dancing with delight.
"Bring out your grandmother! It's all I can manage to bring myself out,
without holding on to a puppy."
"Very well," Tattine called back, with her usual instant acceptance of
the inevitable, "but I know what," and then she was off in a flash, with
Mabel following closely to find out what WHAT might be.
It was Joseph the gardener whom Tattine wanted, and she found him
where she thought she would, killing potato-bugs in the kitchen-garden.
"What do you think, Joseph? Betsy has a beautiful set of little setters
under the piazza. Come quick, please! and see how we can get them
out."
Joseph followed obediently. "Guess we'll have to let them stay there till
they crawl out," said Joseph; "Betsy'll take as good care of them there
as anywhere," whereupon the children looked the picture of misery and
despair. At this moment Rudolph emerged from the hole a mass of
grass and dirt stains, and both Mabel and Tattine thought he had been
pretty plucky, though quite too much preoccupied to tell him so, but
Rudolph happily felt himself repaid for hardships endured, in the
delight of his discovery.
"It will be a month before they'll have sense enough to crawl out," he
remarked to Joseph, "and they're wedged in between some old planks
in very uncomfortable fashion. They look like fine little fellows too. I
think we ought to manage in some way to get them out."

"And it would be bad if any of them died there," said Joseph,rubbing
his head and still ruminating on the subject; "very bad. Well, we'll have
to see what we` can do about it."
"Will you see right away?" urged Tattine eagerly.
"May as well, I reckon," and Joseph walked off in the direction of the
tool-house, but to Tattine's regret evidently did not appreciate any need
for extreme haste.
In a little while he was back again with Patrick, and both of them were
carrying spades. "There's only one way to do it," he explained, as they
set to work; "you see, the pillars