Chapter 2

When he had finished and the fleece lay flat on the platform, very white and clean, Mr. Price let the sheep get up and run out in the barn-yard.

"Ba-a-a--, Ba-a-a!" went the sheep, as she ran out, looking very small and feeling very strange with her heavy coat of wool gone.

Farmer Hill gathered up the wool and carried it to another part of the basement, while John and Mr. Price brought out the next sheep.

When Mr. Price had sheared four sheep, he said, "You might as well bring the big wether next."

"You must lose your wool, Mr. Bell Wether," said Bobby. "We need it to make our clothes."

"I think John had better help you hold him down," said Farmer Hill. "He is a cantankerous old fellow."

So John helped hold him, while Mr. Price sheared him.

Old Bell Wether was a wise old sheep. He knew he could not get away from two men. Besides, he was not sorry to lose the heavy coat which made him so warm in the hot Spring days.

Perhaps he knew that when a sheep squirms and kicks, the shearer may cut off a bit of the skin instead of just taking the wool.

At any rate, he lay very quiet until he was all sheared, and they let him run out into the yard.

"Oh, Father, Old Bell Wether didn't make a single bunt," shouted Bobby, bounding off to the place where Mr. Hill was taking care of the fleeces.

"Just see what I am doing," said Father.

Farmer Hill had a queer-looking thing made of boards joined together with hinges. It looked flat when he laid a fleece of wool on it. Then he folded it up until it looked like a box, and the wool was pressed together inside of it.

There were pieces of strong wool twine in grooves on the inside of the box. He tied them around the fleece so as to hold it firmly together.

At last he opened the box and out came a solid fleece of wool, in the shape of a cube about eighteen inches on each side.

"Oh, let me feel of it," said Bobby. He pressed his hands and face against the soft white wool.

"How much do you guess it weighs?" asked Mr. Hill, as he put it on the scales.

"Fifty pounds," said Bobby.

"Too much. Eight and a half," said Father, as he put the number down in a book.

"How do they make the wool into clothes?" asked Bobby.

"It is first spun into yarn," said Father. "Do you remember the old spinning wheel we have up in the attic?"

"Oh, yes," said Bobby. "That is what I turn my buzz-saw with."

"Well," said Father, "your grandmother used that wheel to spin yarn from wool like this."

"And then they knit stockings from the yarn," said Bobby.

"Yes," said Father; "but my grandmother used to weave the yarn into cloth on a loom. And she made the cloth into clothes for her children to wear."

"I wish Mother would spin yarn and make clothes," said Bobby.

"We find it cheaper to sell the wool and buy our clothes," said Father.

"And perhaps Mother has enough to do," said Bobby.

Then they went back to get another fleece.

When the sheep were all sheared, Rover drove them down the long lane to their pasture.

And it was not long before the whole flock were once more nibbling grass in the meadow.

VI

The proudest creature on Cloverfield Farm was Red Top, the big rooster.

He was called Red Top because of his beautiful, big red comb.

Red Top was proud of his big red comb. He was proud of his glossy reddish-brown feathers. He was proud of his crow.

"Just hear those silly hens," he would say. "All they can do is to cackle. But listen to my beautiful song. Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo! Was there ever a grander sound?"

Every morning, on his perch in the hen-house, he would waken and crow before the break of day. Then he would go out in front of the hen-house and crow three or four times.

But the place he liked best for crowing was a little mound near the house. Farmer Hill's window was just above the little mound. John's window was near by.

Before they were awake, every morning in Summer, Red Top would go there and crow at the top of his voice.

Farmer Hill would waken and say, "There is Red Top. It is time to get up."

John would waken and say, "I wish Red Top would crow somewhere else."

Then there came a holiday when they did not need to get up so early. The evening before, Farmer Hill said, "I wish some one would keep Red Top from crowing under my window to-morrow morning, so I could sleep."

"I'll keep him away," said Bobby.

"You will have to watch or he will get there in spite of you," said Father.

"I don't believe you _could_ keep him away," said John.

"You'll see that I can," said Bobby. "Red Top can't get the start of me."

"If you keep him from crowing there to-morrow morning," said John, "I will give you a dime."

"Goody! I'll do it," said Bobby. "I'll put the dime in the box for my new express wagon."

Bobby put the alarm clock near his bed. It was set to wake him at four o'clock.

The next morning, after Red Top had crowed in the hen-house, he went out into the yard and crowed three times. Then he started toward the house. Very proudly he strutted along the path.

He was just going around to the side of the house, when Bobby came out of the back door.

"Shoo, shoo!" said Bobby. "You must not crow near the house this morning."

And he drove Red Top back toward the corn crib.

"That is too bad," thought Red Top. "They will miss my nice crow. I must go again."

So he went up the path again toward the little mound. Bobby was watching and drove him back.

"I will not let you crow here this morning," he said. "Shoo, shoo!"

Six times Red Top tried to get to the little mound. Six times Bobby drove him back. Finally, he drove him beyond the horse barn.

"Crow for the walnut tree this morning," he said.

"He won't get to the house again very soon," thought Bobby. So he went over to the strawberry patch to see whether any strawberries were ripe.

Suddenly, in the apple tree, a robin began to sing. A thrush joined him from a near-by thicket. Birds began chirping in all the trees.

The Eastern sky began to turn golden. The fleecy white clouds began to look rosy.

Bobby forgot all about the rooster.

Soon there were birds singing everywhere--robins in the apple orchard, an oriole in the elm tree, swallows flashing through the farmyard, bluebirds and yellowbirds on every side. Bobolinks skimming over the clover field, joined the chorus.

Then on a low limb of the crab-apple tree, a meadow lark began to sing. Bobby tried to find him, but could not see him among the branches. Such a wonderful song he had never heard.

The Eastern sky was getting more rosy and more golden.

"It must be the sunrise that makes him so happy," thought Bobby. "I wish I could sing like that."

So there Bobby stood, golden sunrise in the East, singing birds around him.

Meanwhile, Red Top was quietly making his way to the house. As far as the wood-pile he came, and Bobby did not drive him back. As far as the pump he came.

"I'll soon be there," he thought.

A rooster in the next barn-yard crowed. Then Bobby remembered.

He ran toward the house. There was Red Top on the little mound.

"Oh, I must stop him before he crows," thought Bobby. He shouted, "Shoo, shoo!"

Just then a loud cock-a-doodle-doo rang out on the morning air.

"I beat you, Bobby," it seemed to say.

Father looked out of his window and said, "Red Top was smarter than you, wasn't he?"

"I am sorry I let him wake you," said Bobby.

John put his head out of his window and called, "You have lost the dime, Bobby."

"I don't care," said Bobby. "I heard the birds and saw the sunrise."

Then he chased Red Top down to the Old Red Barn, so Father could finish his morning nap.

VII

One of the many pretty sights on the farm in early June, was the clover field, all covered with red blossoms.

It was an interesting place, too.

Bobby and Rover loved to romp in it. The honey bees came to it to get honey. The bobolinks, like flashes of black and white, skimmed over it as they sang. The ground-birds had their nests in it.

Bobby knew of three nests there.

But the time had come for cutting the clover.

One morning, Bobby saw Father and Hobson in the tool-shed and went to see what they were doing. He found them busy about the mowing-machine--oiling it, tightening the screws and sharpening the knives.

"Oh, Father, you aren't going to cut the grass now, are you?" said Bobby.

"Yes," said Father, "the clover is ready."

"I wish it could be left all Summer," said Bobby.

"But we must cut it," said Farmer Hill, "to make hay for the horses and cows to eat next Winter."

When the mower was ready, they hitched Prince and Daisy to it, and Father climbed to the seat and drove to the hayfield.

As the mower went around the field, it cut a wide swath of clover and left it lying flat on the ground.

A humming sound the mower made, a pleasant sound to a person some distance away, a very loud sound to one near by.

In one of the nests in the field, there was a mother bird and three young birds. The little mother bird, there in the quiet clover field, had never heard such a loud sound before.

"What can it be that makes that big noise?" the frightened mother bird thought as the mower passed close by.

Then the sound grew fainter as the mower went to the other side of the field. The little mother bird settled down happily in her nest.

But it was not long before the sound came back again, closer and louder than before.

"What shall I do?" thought the mother bird. "What shall I do?"

She might have flown away herself. But there were the three young birds not yet old enough to fly.

So she sat still while the terrible noise kept coming nearer.

All this time, Bobby was playing here and there with Rover. Suddenly, Bobby thought of something. He ran toward the mowing-machine, waving his hands and shouting.

"Stop, Father, stop!" he said.

The mower made such a loud noise that Father could not hear what Bobby was saying, but he could see his arms waving.

"Whoa, Prince! Whoa, Daisy!" he said, and the horses stopped.

"What is the matter, Bobby?" he asked.

"The bird's-nest! There's a nest right ahead," shouted Bobby.

"A bird's-nest, is there?" said Father. "Well, we won't harm the nest. Go and stand near it, Bobby, and I'll turn out for it."

Bobby hunted around until he found it in the clover. Then he took his stand beside it.

Father clucked to the horses. "Get-up, Prince! Get-up, Daisy!" he said. When he came near Bobby, he turned out and passed a few feet away, leaving the nest all safe.

Bobby stood there until Father went around the field and came back again, so that the wheels of the mower would not run over the nest or the horses step on it when passing on the other side.

"Are there any more nests in the field?" asked Father.

"There is one at that end," said Bobby, pointing toward the west; "and one down there," pointing toward the east.

"If you will set a tall stick in the ground near each one," said Mr. Hill, "I can see where the nests are, and you won't have to stand there."

"All right," said Bobby, and he started toward the house for the sticks.

As he was hunting for them, he remembered his little flags that always stood in the corner of the parlor.

"Why not use the flags to keep the bird's nests safe?" he thought.

So he ran into the parlor, took three of the flags and ran back to the clover field.

In the nest at the western end of the field were four little birds. Bobby pushed one of the sticks into the ground beside it, and the flag floated in the breeze.

Away to the other end of the field he ran, to the nest where there were two little birds. He planted one of the sticks in the ground beside it, and that flag floated in the breeze.

Then he went to the nest where he had stood guard. "You shall have a flag, too," he said.

Farmer Hill kept driving around the field, cutting the clover. But when he came near a flag, he turned out and left a patch of clover standing around the nest.

The sun shone brightly and dried the clover. The breezes blew over it and dried it. Together they changed it from fresh grass into sweet-smelling hay.

The next day, John hitched Daisy to the hay-rake and drove it up and down the field, raking the hay into long windrows.

The hired men came with their pitchforks and pitched it into little stacks or haycocks.

But they were all careful not to touch the little patches of clover where the flags flew.

People driving along the road wondered why Farmer Hill had left the three little patches of clover standing and why the three little flags were there.

But the three little mother birds knew and were happy.

VIII

For a few days, Bobby and Betty and Rover had fun playing hide-and-seek among the haycocks.

"Well, Bobby," said Father one morning, "can you and Betty spare the hay, so we can draw it into the barn?"

"Oh, no; we want to play in it some more," said Bobby.

"We must put it into the barn before a rain comes," said Father. "Come down to the field, you and Betty. Perhaps there will be some fun to-day."

Prince and Daisy were hitched to the big lumber wagon. Father and Hobson took the wagon box off and put the wide hay-rack on.

"Come, children, climb up on the rack for a ride to the field," said Father.

Father held Betty; but Bobby, sitting in the bottom of the rack, went jigglety, jigglety, shakety, shake.

And wasn't it fun!

When they came to the field, Father helped the children off. Then he drove along beside a haycock and stopped the horses. Hobson pitched the hay onto the rack with his pitchfork. Father placed the hay around, so the load would be even on both sides. Then he drove on and stopped at the next haycock.

Higher and higher the load grew.

"Look at Father, Betty," said Bobby. "He is almost up to the sky."

When the load was high enough, Father called to Hobson, "That will do."

In the middle of the load, Father pushed the hay aside to make a nest. A very big nest it was, too big for a robin, too big for the old brown hen.

Then he called down, "Bobby, how would you and Betty like to ride to the barn on the load of hay?"

"That would be grand," said Bobby; "but we can't get up there."

Father said to Hobson, "I'm ready for the children now."

Hobson lifted Bobby to the foot of the little ladder which is at the front of a hay-rack. Bobby climbed up the ladder and Father reached down and pulled him up to the top of the load.

"Here's a safe place for you," said Father, as he put Bobby in the big nest.

Then Hobson lifted Baby Betty. "You had better bring her all the way up," said Father. "She is too little to climb the ladder."

Hobson carried her up the ladder and put her in the nest.

"You may drive," said Father to Hobson. "I'll stay with the children." So there they were in the nest, Father and Bobby and Betty, on top of the big load of hay.

All the way up the lane they rode.

"We must be close to the sky," said Bobby.

"We're on top of the world," said Father.

Finally, they came to the Red Barn. The big front doors were open. Very wide and high they were, but the load of hay reached almost to the top.

"We must all scooch down," said Father, "or it will strike us."

So they all bent over flat on the hay, while Prince and Daisy drew them safely into the big barn.

"Now we must climb down the ladder," said Bobby.

"Wait a minute," said Father. "Sit quietly until I call you."

Father climbed down.

"Ready, Hobson," he called.

Hobson took Bobby over to the side of the load. There was Father standing below him, waiting with outstretched arms.

"Slide down, Bobby; I'll catch you," said Father.

Down the side of the load of hay slid Bobby, straight into Father's arms.

Then it came Betty's turn.

"It's so high," she said. "I'm 'fraid."

"Don't be scared; I'll catch you," said Father.

"Father'll catch you," called up Bobby.

Betty took courage.

Down she slid, down the side of the load of hay, straight into Father's arms.

After that load was pitched into the hay-mow, they went for another, and then another, all day long.

Every time, Bobby and Betty rode in the nest on top of the load of hay.

IX

In a chicken coop in the back yard at Cloverfield Farm, lived Old Speckle with her ten chickens.

It was Bobby's duty to feed them. Three times a day--morning, noon and night--he would take the basin of corn meal and water which Mother had stirred up, and would throw it by spoonfuls into the coop for the chickens.

Old Speckle would call, "Cluck, cluck, cluck!" and the ten little chicks would come running to eat.

He would throw some corn or wheat in for Old Speckle.

One morning Mother said, "Here is the breakfast for the chickens, Bobby."

"I'll feed them right away," said Bobby.

And he meant to.

Taking the basin of meal in one hand and the basin of wheat in the other, he started toward the chicken coop.

When he was about half way there, he spied his new white rabbit poking her nose out between the slats of the rabbit-pen.

Bobby stopped. For a few moments he stood and watched her. Then he set the two basins down on the ground and went over to the rabbit-pen.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said to himself. "It won't hurt the chickens to wait a little while for their breakfast."

Bunny was so interesting with her long ears and her wiggly nose, that Bobby stayed fifteen minutes, watching her. By that time, he had forgotten all about Old Speckle and the chickens.

Next he went to a corner of the rail fence to see whether there were any more eggs in the robin's nest. He found four blue eggs.

Then to the Duck Pond he went to see whether the little boat he had left there the day before was still there. It was. He sailed it eleven times across the pond.

When he was through sailing the boat, he saw Rover coming through the orchard.

"Hello, Rover," he said, "let's go to the barn."

And they went down the lane to the Big Red Barn, leaving Old Speckle and the ten little chicks still unfed.

"Why doesn't Bobby come with our breakfast?" thought the hungry little chicks.

"Why doesn't Bobby come with our breakfast?" thought Old Speckle. "My poor little chicks will starve."

Meanwhile the Big Rooster found the basin of meal and the basin of wheat.

"What a nice breakfast!" he thought.

And he ate it all up.

When noon time came, the dinner bell rang.

"Come, Rover," said Bobby. "Let's go up to dinner right away. It's a long time since breakfast."

Perhaps it was because he was hungry that Bobby suddenly remembered something.

Anyway, he began to run as fast as his legs would carry him and ran all the way up the lane, Rover at his heels.

And, as he ran, he kept thinking, "A long time since breakfast! But the little chickens didn't have any breakfast at all."

When he came to the spot where he had left the two basins, there the two basins were, but both empty.

He looked over toward the chicken coop.

There was Old Speckle walking back and forth, putting her head out between the slats every once in a while, and looking greatly distressed.

There were the little chicks saying, "Peep, peep, peep," as they tried to find something to eat in the grass.

Bobby took the basins into the house.

"Mother," he asked, "did you feed the chickens?"

"No," said she, "that is your chore, Bobby."

"But how came the basins empty?" asked he.

Mother could not answer. But at that very moment, the Big Rooster crowed, "Cock-a-doodle-doo! I had a fine breakfast."

Mother stirred up another basin of meal while Bobby got some more wheat. He took them quickly to the chickens and threw the food into the coop.

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" Old Speckle called.

"Peep, peep, peep!" cried the little chicks, as they came running to eat.

Bobby watched them until it was nearly gone.

"Now you feel better, don't you?" said he. "And I feel better, too," he added.

Which was strange, wasn't it?

For Bobby had not yet had his dinner.

X

Rover was useful in many ways about the farm. Sometimes he even went to the village store on errands.

One morning in Summer, Mrs. Hill needed some meat for dinner. She wrote a note and put it in a certain basket. With it she put a purse and covered them with a white cloth. Then she went to the door and called, "Rover! Rover!"

Rover came bounding up the path.

"I want you to go to the store," said Mrs. Hill, giving him the basket.

Rover took the handle in his mouth, trotted down the path to the road and turned toward the village. As he passed the Allen farmhouse, he saw Sport, a little brown dog with whom he often played.

Sport came running out with a few friendly barks which meant, "Come on, Rover, I am ready for a frolic."

Rover turned his head toward his little friend, but kept trotting right on, with a look that plainly said, "I can't stop to play now. I'm on important business."

When he came to Mr. Brown's store, there were some men standing on the steps.

"Well, Rover," said one of the men, "what did you come for to-day?"

Rover looked at the man, but walked right on, pushed the screen door open and went into the store.

"Good morning, Rover," said Mr. Brown. "What can I do for you?"

Rover put the basket on the floor and then looked up. Mr. Brown took out the white cloth and found the note Mrs. Hill had put there.

"Two pounds of beefsteak. Very well," said he.

He weighed a piece and wrapped it with paper and put it in the basket. Out of the purse he took a bill and put some change back.

Then he covered them with the white cloth and put a brown wrapping paper on top, to keep out the dust.

"You can take this home now, and mind you don't lose it," said he, as he held the door open.

Rover took up the basket and went down the steps.

"A pretty smart dog!" said one of the men, as Rover trotted along.

Down the street he went, with the basket held high from the ground.

Rover could smell the meat, and it made him feel hungry. But he had never touched anything that he carried in his basket and he did not do it now.

When he came to the house where Ned Hopkins lived, he saw Ned sitting on the fence, whittling a stick.

"I'll try to make Rover drop that basket," said Ned. He whistled and called, "Here, Rover, get it," as he threw the stick across the road.

Rover stopped and looked longingly at it. One of his favorite games was to fetch sticks that were thrown for him. But he did not run after it this time.

"Come, Rover, old dog," said Ned, getting down from the fence; "let me see what is in your basket." He patted Rover on the neck and then reached over to take the basket.

Rover held the handle tightly in his teeth and growled, "Gr-r-r-"

Ned had never heard Rover growl like that before.

"Oh, well, if that is the way you feel about it, I won't bother you," said he.

"Gr-r-r-r! You had better not," growled Rover. And he started on up the road.

After leaving the village, he came to a house where a man named Mr. Hook lived all alone. Mr. Hook was sitting in his front yard as Rover came along.

"I wonder what is in the basket to-day," he thought.

"Rover, old dog, wait a minute," he called.

Rover stopped and looked around. The basket felt quite heavy by this time, so he was glad to set it down on the ground.

Mr. Hook came up and patted him on the head. "Nice old dog! Nice Rover," he said. "What is in your basket?"

He put out his hand to take it. But Rover seized the handle and started toward home.

Mr. Hook looked up and down the road. There was no one in sight.

"Here, Ponto! Come, Ponto!" he called; and his own dog came running out--a big, black dog.

"Get him, Ponto," said the man.

Ponto ran after Rover and attacked him savagely. Rover had to put the basket down, to defend himself.

Ponto soon found he was getting the worst of it and turned to run.

Rover chased him down the road, leaving the basket alone on the ground. That was exactly what Mr. Hook wanted. He went quickly up to it and lifted the paper and the white cloth.