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“Come lad, we must answer the call!” Roger’s father told him, “Just put that pig back in the pig pen and grab something to serve as a weapon.” It was harder to tell who was happier, the pig or Roger, as he put the pig back in the pen and then looked around for a suitable weapon. He still had the hammer in his belt from building the crate but he felt that he needed something more menacing than that. A pitchfork was what he thought of first but when he looked where they were supposed to be he found that some one else had beat him too it. As he frantically looked around the barn for something appropriate he couldn’t help wishing that he didn’t have eleven older brothers who were quick at grabbing any tool that was sharp.

Finally in desperation he went into the house but there found that one of his brothers had beat him to the fire tongs. About to despair and knowing that he must hurry he suddenly noticed the broom. Having experienced the stinging pain which a broom handle actively applied on one’s back side as punishment he thought that this might be useful and grabbed it.

On exciting through the kitchen he noticed a large empty pot while he was stuffing his pockets with cookies and he decided to take that too, as you never know when you are going to need a pot. Besides, it made quite an impressive helmet when he put it on his head, though he had a little bit of trouble seeing through it.

As Roger was running quickly to join his father and brothers he couldn’t help wondering what enemy he was going to attack, and whether pretty Mabel Farel was going to watch him setting out in defense of his village.

Arriving at the villaige Roger saw that just about everybody was there already, and that Mable Farel was standing in the doorway of her home. Mabel was sixteen and had the most beautiful mud brown hair in the village, or so Roger thought after he had tasted some of the pie that she had baked and had fallen madly in love with her.

“Now men!” the village mayor said, “We have a job to do so let us go and do it!” Quickly they left and headed out the northern exit of the village.

Roger straightened his shoulders and attempted to march in an orderly fashion with his broom over his shoulder like a rifle and the pot on his head for a hat. Though he looked rather like young boy playing soldier it quite impressed Mabel, who smiled and waved but as Roger was steadfastly looking forward he didn’t notice, and if he had he probably would have though she was waving at somebody else.

After a half hours marching they came to the canyon entrance. Here their leader paused and leaving all behind but one or two, went ahead to scout the area. He returned shortly.

“Men,” he said in a hurried voice, “We are greatly outnumbered. Each of you must take down at least ten or we are done for!” Roger felt his blood run chill with excitement. “Now go, and may you show what stuff you are made of!”

With that everyone rushed towards the canyon. Roger was expecting to see a savage army of fierce warriors on horse back, armed to the teath, but he didn’t.

“Has the army been cast under a spell to look like tiny rabbits?” Roger whispered to his father. His father stared at him and just shook his head, and then joined in the fray against the rabbits.

I will not describe the scene that followed, it was a bit to gory what with pitchforks and red stuff all over the place. Roger however was quite humane. He hit the little rabbits, they were only about six inches long and three inches high, on the head with his hammer and then utilized his broom to pick them up and put them in the pot. Pretty soon he had a goodly stack of them and then noticing that Harry Foster was heading out of the canyon with an armful of the rabbits he decided to follow him. Harry was also fond of Mabel’s pies and Roger felt certain that Harry was going to bring his spoils to the feet of Mabel and bask in her pleasure.

Throwing a few more rabbits into his pot for good measure Roger ran after him. Harry noticed him and quickened his pace. It has an interesting race for both were being very careful not to spill their rabbits there fore neither were going at top speed. Nonetheless it was a close race for two reached Mabel’s home at exactly the same moment, but to Roger’s shock and surprise Harry kept right on running until he reached the house of Sarah Miller were he there showed off his rabbits and Sarah made a big fuss over him and then everything seemed happily settled between them.

Mabel, who had come out to see what the commotion was, saw Roger staring dumbfounded in the direction of Harry and Sarah and mistakingly thought that Roger must like Sarah. As Mabel was about to run up to her room and cry for three days and then vow never speak to Sarah again as long as she lived, and perhaps join a nunnery, Roger suddenly noticed that Mabel was in the door way. Quickly he knelt at her feet and offered up his pot of rabbits and then, since Mabel didn’t immediately accept them, Roger added torrents of words about her charms, her cooking abilities, and how much he liked her.

Mabel quickly decided that she had made a mistake and that Roger was probably just surprised that anyone could come rushing back to town for a girl so plain as Sarah, and immediately decided not to go to a nunnery, or even go up to her room and cry for three days.