I raced to the house.
“Mother, mother”, I panted, “I’ve caught one of those chickens. What shall we do with it?”
“Why”, said my mother, after hearing my brave tale, “give it back, of course. I’m sure you understand that to keep it would be stealing.”
What a blow! The adventure ended dismally there, except for a glowing memory.
Throughout the grade school period, which was mostly spent in Atchison, I remember having a very good time. There were regular games and school and mud-ball fights, picnics, and exploring raids up and down the bluffs of the Missouri River. The few sandstone caves in that part of the country added so much to our fervor that exploring became a rage.
A small band of adventurers worried how to keep exclusive some especially desirable caves.
“Let’s put up a sign to scare people”, suggestedsomeone.
“‘BEWARE’—that sounds dangerous”, said another.
“How do you spell it?”
“B-e-w-e-a-r”.
“I think it’s B-e-w-a-r-e”.
“But bear is spelled b-e-a-r”.
“Well, let’s put it one way on some and the other way on the others”, suggested the arbiter in the crowd.
How terrifying those signs must have been!
The river itself was always exciting. There usu-
