It's Saturday.
Chapter thirteen: INDIAN CAMP
Day after day was hotter than the day before. The wind was hot. Ma said that it was as if it had come out of an oven. The grass was turning yellow. The whole world was rippling green and gold under the blazing sky. At noon the wind died. No birds sang. Everything was so still that Laura could hear the squirrels chattering in the trees down by the creek. Suddenly black crows flew overhead, cawing their rough, sharp caws. Then everything was still again. Ma said that this was midsummer. Pa wondered where the Indians had gone. He said they had left their little camp on the prairie. And one day he asked Laura and Mary if they would like to see that camp. Laura jumped up and down and clapped her hands, but Ma objected. She said that it was so far, especially in this heat. Pa’s blue eyes twinkled. He said that the heat didn’t hurt the Indians and it wouldn’t hurt them. He asked the girls to come on. Laura begged Pa to let Jack come to. Pa had taken his gun, but he looked at Laura and he looked at Jack, then he looked at Ma, and he put the gun up on its pegs again. He said to Laura that was all right and he would take Jack and leave Ma the gun. Jack jumped around them, wagging his stump of a tail. As soon as he saw which way they were going, he set off, trotting ahead. Pa came next and behind him came Mary, and then Laura. Mary kept her sun bonnet on, but Laura let hers dangle down her back. The ground was hot under their bare feet. The sunshine pierced through their faded dresses and tingled on their arms and backs. The air was really as hot as the air in an oven, and it smelled faintly like baking bread.
