articlesforchristians

Up the path the children went. It was a narrow path. The cows had made it. On each side, there was lovely goldenrod. Peter picked a long stalk.

“Now I am captain,” he said. “See my gold sword.”

“I see something just as pretty,” said Polly. “Over there in the tall grass.”

“Oh, yellow daisies, yellow daisies!” shouted Peter. “I like those, too. I like them better than white daisies.”

“I call them Black-eyed Susans,” said Polly.

“Why do you, Polly?”

“Because they have a dark center, Peter. Here are the bars. Climb over and hold the egg. Then I will climb over.”

In the pasture the grass was shorter. But a part of the field was covered with goldenrod. It looked like yellow plumes. It was very bright.

“There are some cows, Polly. Are you afraid of them? I am not.”

“No,” said Polly. “What is there to be afraid of? We are not afraid of Black Bess.”

“We are not afraid of Tim’s Jersey cows,” said Peter. “But Tim says that some cows do not like red. They will chase you, if you have on red things.”

“Well, I have nothing on that is red,” said Polly. “So I am not afraid.”

“Yes, you have, Polly. Yes, you have. You have on your red hair,” cried Peter.

“Oh, dear!” said Polly. “I forgot that. Do cows chase hair? I do not believe that they do. I shall go along.”

Soon they came to the fir trees. There, at the foot of a great rock, was the boiling spring. It was larger than a dish pan. It was not deep.

At one side the water ran out of the spring. It made a brook down the hill.

“See the sand at the bottom move, Peter,” said Polly. “See the water at the top jump up and down. I do believe that it boils. Oh, goody, goody!

“Now I will drop in the egg. Do not put your fingers into the water. It might burn them.”

The children sat by the spring for a long, long time. They watched the clear water bubble up and down. They waited for the egg to cook.

At last Polly said, “That egg must be boiled hard by this time. I shall not wait any longer. I will poke it out with these sticks. Then I will break it. We can eat it. I have some salt.”

When she took it up to break it, it felt very cold.

“Why,” said Polly, “this egg is cold. Eggs just boiled are hot. Father burns his fingers when he breaks ours in the morning. What do you suppose is the matter with this?”

“I know,” said Peter. “The water is cold. I stuck my finger into it to see. You cannot boil anything in cold water.”

“So it is cold,” said Polly. “It must be good to drink. Let’s drink. It is the oddest boiling water that I ever saw. I shall take the egg and go down now to ask the blacksmith about it.”