Part 3

"You can go away from here, and stay away, and not come catching my fish," said Mother Mink, very crossly. "How _do_ you think I can make a living for my children, if you come and take the food away from me?"

Buddy Jim laughed. "Don't be impolite, Little Neighbor," he said. "The fish belong to us all, but I'm willing you should have your share."

"I'm going to _take_ my share whether you are willing or not," said Mother Mink, and without saying "thank you," she grabbed Buddy Jim's big eel and ran away with it!

Buddy Jim looked after her in astonishment! No other Little Neighbor had ever been so impolite.

Just then Old Bob the gardener came back with a load of birch bark. Buddy Jim's throat felt a little choky, but he was brave about it.

"Mrs. Mink called to see me while you were away, Bob," he said, "and she took my big eel away with her."

"Well, well!" said Old Bob the gardener, "wasn't she bold? She must have had young ones with her. But don't you care, Son, Mary wouldn't have cooked him anyway. She thinks eels aren't fish."

"I _wanted_ to show him to Mother," said Buddy Jim, "He was such a big one."

"We'll go out again right after lunch," said Old Bob the gardener, "I know where there's a pickerel hole, and a pickerel is a _regular fish_!"

BUDDY JIM, MRS. WEASEL AND LITTLE MOTHER BOB WHITE.

_The cobwebs were a-glistening, Dew-spangled, all about; As though the fairy folk had spread Their dainty washing out; The wild rose wore her pinkest gown, And saucy old Blue-Jay Called out for all the world to hear, "Strawberries are ripe today!"_

"That's so, Mr. Blue-Jay," said Old Bob the gardener, as he came by the place where Buddy Jim was weeding his vegetable garden, "that's so; wild ones too, and I only wish I had time to go and gather some."

"Why, Bob," said Buddy Jim. "Are wild strawberries any better than the big ones that you grow in the garden?"

"Better!" exclaimed Old Bob the gardener, "better! Well I should _think_ so! _Wild_ strawberries are the sweetest things that grow! Only wish that I were going to have some for my breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Well, you're going to have some," said Buddy Jim, "if you will tell me where they grow, for I'll go and get enough for us both, and we'll eat breakfast right out here on the porch, together!"

"Do you see that open patch of ground off yonder in the far field?" asked Old Bob the gardener. "Well, that's where they grow; around the edge of the old stone wall is where the best ones will be."

"I like to pick berries," said Buddy Jim. "I'll ask Mary to let me have a pail to put them in, and go right away to get them."

"The dew will be nicely dried up before you get over there," said Old Bob the gardener, "and it will be fine picking; if I were not so busy I'd go with you."

Mary had a pail, all nice and shiny, which used to hold lard, and she was very glad to lend it to Buddy Jim, who first ran to tell Mother goodbye, and then, whistling to Old Dog Sandy to come along, was off across the fields.

It was a very pleasant run across the dewy meadows and they met no one at all except Mrs. Black Garter Snake who was out looking for breakfast for herself and children, and it was not very long before they came to the place where the berries were, and Buddy Jim began to pick them. They were so large and plentiful that he soon had his pail full. He covered them from the heat of the sun with a big burdock leaf which he picked from the side of the stone wall, and putting them aside he began picking some to eat.

Then he thought he would rest before going home, so he stretched out on his back and fell fast asleep and dreamed that he was afloat on a calm, blue ocean in a little white boat, surrounded by mermen and maidens. Suddenly he was awakened by Old Dog Sandy who was barking furiously.

"Now I wonder what's the matter with Sandy?" said he to himself, running as fast as he could go in the direction of the sounds. "That isn't a fun bark; that's a business bark!"

He found Old Dog Sandy doing his best to climb a big hawthorn tree that grew near the side of the old stone wall, all the time barking as loudly as he could. He was not succeeding very well in climbing the tree, but he was sending a very earnest warning to whatever was in the tree that it would be much better not to come down again, or something would be sure to happen.

"What is it, Sandy?" asked Buddy Jim, but Old Dog Sandy was too busy to pay attention to his little master, and besides, he wanted to attend to this matter himself--the long, slim, brown, cruel _thing_ hidden among the branches of the hawthorn tree really _needed_ a good _shaking_, and he, Old Dog Sandy, was just the dog to give it to him.

So he paid no attention to his master, and did not answer, but a queer, chuckling little voice from the top of the old stone wall _did_.

"It was Mrs. Weasel who ran up in the tree," said the chuckling little voice. "She was determined that she would have one of my children for lunch, and almost caught one, when your old dog came along and made her stop. Goodness only knows what might have happened if he had not come just at that moment."

"You're little Mrs. Bob White, aren't you?" asked Buddy Jim. "Why didn't you and your children fly away or hide somewhere?"

"Why," said Mrs. Bob White, "my children cannot fly yet. They're only about three weeks old, just little bits of chickens, and as for _hiding_ from Mrs. Weasel or her young ones, it simply can't be done--she is so slender she can go _anywhere_, and if we run away from her we are likely to run right into the jaws of one of her young ones--they hunt together you see, and they're almost sure to get one of us--I don't know _what_ to do. I simply can't move away from here until the children are older."

Buddy Jim thought a minute. It seemed as though there must be some way to help the little mother. "I'll tell you," he said, "Sandy seems to be very much interested in Mrs. Weasel, and I'm sure he will be glad to run down here every day, and perhaps Mrs. Weasel will let you alone when she sees that you have friends."

"O thank you, Neighbor," said little Mrs. Bob White. "That will be _such_ a help!"

Just then came a clear call from across the fields. "Bob White, Bob White, Bob, Bob White."

Instantly little Mrs. Bob White answered, "Ooo, ooh! _All_ right, Bob White."

"That was Daddy calling to see if we were safe and happy," said the little mother. "He always does that if he has to be away from home."

Just then came another call, "Hoo, oo, Hoo, oo." Buddy Jim laughed. "That's Old Bob the gardener calling me home to lunch," said he, "so goodbye, and the best of luck, Little Mother Quail."

"Get any berries?" asked Old Bob the gardener. "Lots," answered Buddy Jim, "and I'll get some more tomorrow, because I'm going down again. Old Dog Sandy wouldn't come home with me--he has a new job down in the far field."

"What sort of a job?" asked Old Bob the gardener. He was always so _interested_ in things.

"He is going to protect little Mrs. Bob White and her family from Mrs. Weasel," said Buddy Jim.

"He has his work cut out for him then," said old Bob the gardener, "because Mrs. Weasel is a very clever lady, and fond of small quail. If she is working around here I think I'll set a trap in the chicken yard, just as a hint to her to keep away from _our_ chickens."

"Would she dare to come up here?" asked Buddy Jim. "She would _so_," laughed Old Bob the gardener.

Buddy Jim sighed. "What makes Mrs. Weasel so cruel and dishonest, Bob?" he asked.

"She isn't 'specially," answered the old man, "she has to get food for her family, and that's her way of doing it."

"But she frightens little Mrs. Bob White so, and it seems so cruel," said the little boy, who wanted all his Little Neighbors to be happy.

"Yes, I know," said Old Bob the gardener, "but I have no doubt that the bugs and caterpillars that little Mrs. Bob White catches feel quite the same way about her, that _she_ does about Mrs. Weasel.

"Like to help me transplant some more plants before supper time?"

"Sure would," said Buddy Jim as he went to give Mother some wild strawberries for her luncheon.

BUDDY JIM AND THE FLYING SQUIRRELS

_'Twas lots of fun to help the men Bring in the new-mown hay; Far better than the newest game A boy could ever play; "There couldn't be" said Buddy Jim, "A happier time for you Than haying time, for it's so full Of jolly things to do."_

Buddy Jim was a bit hot and tired when the last load of hay had been stowed away in the loft in the barn.

It was almost time for supper he knew, but it was so cool and dim up there under the rafters, and the hay was so cool and fragrant, that he decided he would stay and take a little rest.

And you know how it is; when you're a bit weary and very comfy; well, Buddy Jim _nearly_ fell asleep.

But just as he was on the thin edge of dreamland, he woke up. And he heard voices! Very earnest little voices, too, they were.

"Don't worry, Mother," said one little voice, "I don't believe there will be many more loads of hay this year. And anyway it will never, I'm sure, reach up as high as this cross beam we are on. I don't think we shall have to move."

"I would _not_ take the chance of staying in this nest one single day more," answered a second little voice. "Why, there was one time this afternoon whey I thought _surely_ that our home and our babies were going to be ab-so-lute-ly covered up under great forks-ful of hay.

"So we are going to move, Daddy," went on the voice, "and we are going to move this _very night_!"

"O well, if you feel that way about it," said the first voice, "I will look around while I'm out to dinner, and see if I can find a new place."

"Yes, Daddy, please do that," said the second little voice earnestly, "and while you are out, I'll get the children to sleep, so they won't be stupid when moving time comes."

Then there came the sound of something almost, but not quite, like the flutter of wings, and Buddy Jim was surprised to see what looked like a very tiny air-plane sailing across the loft and out at the window that had been left open for the barn swallows.

"Now I wonder," said Buddy Jim, "who these funny little people can be?" Just then across the loft, came the sound of a little, croony, sleepy-time song. Just the kind of a song that mothers the world over sing to their babies at bed time.

Presently it died away, and all was still, and Buddy Jim knew that the babies, whoever they were, had gone to sleep.

"I'm going to find out who that is," said he, crawling softly across the hay towards the place from where the sound of the voices and the singing had come. Presently, in the dim light he could just make out a tiny creature in a tawny dress sitting on a tuft of hay. She had been daintily munching the seeds from a buttercup stalk. But now she sat very still. Buddy sat very still, too. He knew that the small Mother person had seen him.

But she did not run away. She couldn't, you see. Because her precious babies were there. So she sat quite still and hoped that Buddy Jim had not seen her.

"Don't be afraid of me," said Buddy Jim, "I'm just a neighbor, and I won't hurt you."

"My! you make me breathe easier," said the small Mother person, "most boys would drive me away and take my babies away to live in one of those dreadful prisons they call cages. My! I'm glad that you are not _that_ kind of boy. Why," she went on, "we came into this hay loft to live because we thought there wasn't a boy on the farm."

"There wasn't until my Daddy bought it," said Buddy Jim. "We came in the Springtime. Daddy wants me to know all about my little country neighbors. You see I'm from the city, and I've never seen many wild creatures--nobody but Reddy Bat--so I just want to know them all. I wouldn't hurt your babies, and I wouldn't think of taking them away."

"Well, that surely makes me feel better," said the little Mother person.

"But won't you please tell me your name?" said Buddy Jim. "Why, surely," said the small Mother person, "we are the Flying Squirrels, though we of course do not really fly, we just get our balance and sail through the air. Like this," she said, giving a little jump and sailing across the loft and back again.

"I heard you planning to move," said Buddy Jim. "Why! This is such a safe big place for the babies to play around in."

"That's what we thought," said Mother Flying Squirrel, "and that is why we moved into Barn Swallow's old nest instead of making one for ourselves--he isn't using it this year--see, it's up on that cross-beam. But now that they are filling the barn so full of hay, I'm afraid my children will be buried under it, so Father Squirrel has gone out to see if he can find us a new place to live in."

"Wait a minute," said Buddy Jim, "I think I can help you. You just sit tight until I come back."

Buddy Jim slid down from the hayloft and went out to his own little work bench which Daddy had given him. There he hunted until he found just what he wanted. It was a wooden box that used to hold soap. In a few minutes with hammer and nails he had made just the nicest little house you could wish for. And then he covered the floor of it with soft, fine shavings, and took it back to the hayloft.

Then he climbed up on the cross beam, and nailed the house way up high, so high that the hay just never could come up to it.

And then he sat down to watch little Mother Flying Squirrel move. First she fixed the shavings to suit herself. Then, for fear it was not soft enough she got some hay and put that in and trampled it down.

Then she moved the babies, taking one at a time, in her mouth, just the way Tabby the Cat moves hers. When they were all safely in the new nest, she sat up on the top of the house to look for Daddy Flying Squirrel.

Presently he came in and sailed straight over to where his house used to be.

You should have seen his face! But Mother Squirrel called, "We've moved, we live up here now."

"Well, well," said Daddy Flying Squirrel, "_where_ did you ever get this house? And where are the babies?"

"All safely tucked in bed, bless their hearts," said Mother Flying Squirrel. "This house is a present from our new neighbor, Buddy Jim. There he is over there on the hay."

"A Boy!" gasped Daddy Flying Squirrel. "Now we _shall_ have to move."

"Indeed we _won't_," said Mother Flying Squirrel, "Buddy Jim is the right _kind_ of a boy. He takes care of small creatures instead of hurting them."

Just then came the call to supper. "Where have you been so long Buddy Jim?" asked his father.

"I was fixing a house for the flying Squirrels and their babies, up in the hay loft, Daddy," answered the little boy. "I'm going to tame them. I'm going to get them so tame that they will eat out of my hand before the summer is over."

"He will do it, too," said Old Bob the gardener to Mary the maid. "All the little animals around the place seem to love Buddy. He's so good to them."

BUDDY JIM AND MOLLY COTTON-TAIL

_The lovely Blackeyed Susans Were nodding drowsily, And the Katy-dids were singing In the old red cherry tree, The dusky, ripe blueberries called An invitation sweet "Come Buddy Jim, come up and see How good we are to eat."_

Buddy Jim ran around the house to the back porch where Mary the cook was busy shelling green peas for dinner.

"I wonder what kind of pie I can have for dessert tonight," she said. "The red raspberries are all gone, so Old Bob the gardener says, and I'm tired of pie-plant, aren't you, Buddy?"

"I was just thinking I would go and get some blueberries," said Buddy Jim, "and I'll get some so you can make a pie, if you want me to, Mary."

"Bless the lad," said Mary the cook, "that will be fine. Wait till I make you some sandwiches, and find a pail for the berries."

So with one pocket full of doughnuts and one full of sandwiches and one full of cookies--(you never can tell _how_ hungry a boy is going to get when he is working hard picking berries, so Mary the cook said)--Buddy Jim called to Old Dog Sandy and started for the blueberry bushes.

Old Bob the gardener was very proud of those bushes. He had found them many years before, bravely growing in the open pasture, just little wild bushes that had strayed up there from the low places, and he had treated them well, and had given them what they liked best to eat, and had taken such good care of them they had grown into a wonderful blueberry orchard, and the sweet dusky berries were twice as large as any blueberries had ever been before.

So, Buddy Jim had lots of fun filling his pail with them, and long before it was filled he simply could not have eaten a single berry more, and his face looked just like a little black boy's face.

Blueberries do stain so! But Buddy could not see his face, and he would not have cared if he _could_ have seen it, he was having so much fun.

All at once, Old Dog Sandy barked at something. Buddy knew what _that_ meant. Sandy had found some Little Neighbor. So he ran quickly. He was always afraid that the silly old dog would at some time hurt some little helpless creature.

He found him in a thicket of brakes at the edge of the woods, dancing around an old stump, barking like mad at Molly Cotton-tail and her two babies, who were trying to squeeze themselves into a little hollow at the foot of the stump.

Molly Cotton-tail was trying to shelter the two little ones with her body, but she wasn't quite big enough.

"Sandy," said Buddy, "stop that barking and go and lie down until I come!"

Old Dog Sandy trotted off, looking foolish and disgusted, and talking to himself. He could not understand Buddy! Here he took all this trouble to hunt up game for him, and every time he got blamed for it. It was no way to _treat_ a dog. He was going to stay at the house after this.

"My!" said Molly Cotton-tail, drawing a long breath, "I'm glad you called off that old dog. I thought we were surely done for just before you came. I thank you ever so much, not only for me, but for my poor babies who are only four weeks old."

"I am sorry my old dog was so rude," said Buddy. "Somehow he won't stop barking at the little neighbors. He thinks it's fun!"

"It may be--for him," said Molly Cotton-tail, "but not for us. You see we cannot climb trees, as some animals can, and we do not swim to speak of, and we have no holes in the ground to dodge into, unless we use some other person's house, and then we may be running into danger, because the snakes use the old houses of the wood-chucks and gophers, and of course mothers _cannot_ run away and leave their babies--so you can see it's not very easy being a rabbit."

"I guess not," said Buddy. "Do you live near here?"

"My home is right around the corner, under an old log," said Molly Cotton-tail. "I have a very nice home, all lined with my last year's coat, and as comfy as can be. But I brought the children out here to sleep today, it was so pleasant and cool and dim in here. We were having such a _good_ nap when your old dog found us."

"It is so early in the day," said Buddy, "that I don't see how you could have _needed_ a nap."

"Oh, but you see," said Molly Cotton-tail, "we work nights and sleep days!"

"Why do you do that?" asked Buddy Jim. "Well," said Molly Cotton-tail, "it is so light in the day, and we can see so many things to frighten us--we're not very brave you know--and it's so much fun to come out when it's cool and dark to play our games and find our food."

"It's a funny way to live," said Buddy. "I couldn't find my way about in the dark."

"I suppose we are made differently," said Molly Cotton-tail, "so that we can all use the same world; it would be too crowded if we all had to be out in it at the same time. But if you will excuse me now I will get my children to sleep again, so Goodbye," and she started for the comfy fur-lined nest under the old log.

"Goodbye," said Buddy Jim. "I'm glad I met you."

"Get many blueberries, Buddy?" asked Old Bob the gardener.

"Lots," answered Buddy. "And Old Dog Sandy scared up Molly Cotton-tail and her two little baby Cotton-tails, in the edge of the woods."

"That so?" said Old Bob the gardener, "did you see them?"

"Yes, I did," answered Buddy, "the babies were cute little things. Say, Bob," he went on, "why do people always say that rabbits have no brains?"

"I don't know," said Old Bob the gardener, "I've always thought myself that Molly Cotton-tail was a pretty bright Little Neighbor."

"I think so too," said Buddy.

BUDDY JIM AND THE HARVEST MICE

_The golden glow was waving Her pom-poms in the sun, And the click of busy reapers said That harvest had begun; The Sumac trees were dressing up In gowns of crimson hue But there didn't seem to be a thing A little boy could do._

Buddy Jim sat on the top step of the porch and didn't know _what_ to do! He had fed the rabbits and chickens, and everybody else was busy! He had been told that he must not go to the harvest field because the men didn't want little boys around machinery; and _nearly_ he was _lonesome_! Then Old Bob the gardener came by with his cheery whistle and his "Hello, Buddy, old scout, what's doing today?" "Nothing," said Buddy. "Why, Bob?" "Well," said Old Bob the gardener, "I'm pretty busy, myself, today, and I was wondering if perhaps a little boy about your size wouldn't be so kind as to go down to the far pasture and salt the sheep for me."

"Why, of course I will," said Buddy Jim. "But, Bob, how _do_ you salt sheep?"

"Oh," said Old Bob the gardener, "you just take some salt along and sprinkle it on the ground. I always put it near the big flat rock just inside the five barred gate. The sheep will come and get it. They will be there by the time _you_ are most likely, because they can smell salt a long way."

"Shall I take Old Dog Sandy along, Bob?" asked Buddy. "Better not," advised old Bob the gardener, "he wouldn't hurt them, I know, but the sheep would not understand. They think all dogs are their enemies."

When Buddy got to the far pasture the sheep were all in sight nibbling at the short grass. As soon as they saw him scattering the salt on the ground, how they _did_ run to get it! Buddy climbed up on the five-barred gate to watch them eat it. "They must think it's candy," he said to himself.

After they had eaten every tiniest bit of the salt, the old bell wether started away and all the others followed him. "They are going to the spring now to get a drink," thought Buddy Jim. "So I think I'll go home." But just then who should fly gracefully along and light on the top bar of the five-barred gate quite near to Buddy Jim, but Mr. Red-headed Woodpecker, dressed all in his very best. He paid no attention at all to Buddy. He just sat there thinking about something. Then he flew over to an old stump with a hole in one side of it for a door, and began knocking loudly with his long bill on the side of the stump.