Part 4

Presently a little bit of a Mother person came to the door and peeped out. When she saw who was there she drew her head back, and Buddy heard her say: "Please, Mr. Woodpecker, don't make so much noise. My babies can't sleep at all."

"O, so you are at home this time, Mrs. Harvest Mouse," said Red-headed Woodpecker. "Well, I've come to collect my rent, if you please!"

"I am sorry, Mr. Woodpecker," said the little Mother person, "but there isn't a thing in the house that you could use. Father Harvest Mouse has had to get up early and go out to find something for our own breakfast."

"In that case," said Mr. Red-headed Woodpecker, "I'll wait until he comes back, and if he doesn't bring something that I like better, why, baby mice will taste pretty good," and he began drumming on the old stump again. "I wonder what I can do to help that little Mother person?" Buddy asked himself. He could hear the little Mother trying to hush her frightened babies, and he knew that she was just as much frightened as they were. Just then little Father Harvest Mouse came running along the top bar of the five-barred gate. He had his mouth full of heads of wheat. They stuck out from his funny little face just like big whiskers, and he _could_ hardly see over them. He stopped short as he heard Red-headed Woodpecker knocking at his door, and then he saw Buddy Jim. "O dear, O dear," he said, as well as he could with his mouth full of wheat, "this place is full of enemies! It is quite time that we moved."

"I'm not your enemy," said Buddy Jim, softly.

"Aren't you?" said the little fellow. "Well, you can see for yourself that Red-headed Woodpecker is."

"Why did he ask Mrs. Harvest Mouse for the rent?" asked Buddy. "Does your house belong to him?"

"It once belonged to one of his family," said Father Harvest Mouse. "But it had not been used in years and years until we found it and made it over for a home for ourselves and our babies. He never bothers us unless he knows we have small children. I scarcely ever leave home in the day-time, but I went out today to find a new home. We shall move tonight."

"Where are you going to live?" asked Buddy Jim. "We are going to move nearer the wheat fields," said Father Harvest Mouse. "I am going to build my own house this time. But I wish that old chap would fly away, so I could go and feed my family. They must be nearly starved."

"I'll make him go away," said Buddy Jim, taking his sling shot from his pocket. "I won't hit him, but I'll frighten him."

Mr. Red-headed Woodpecker was so busy knocking at Mother Harvest Mouse's door that he did not notice anything at all until Bing! came a stone from the sling shot. He flew over to the fence. Then as nothing happened he flew back, and began knocking as before. Then Buddy Jim sent another shot that hit the stump a little nearer _to_ the old fellow. Then he saw Buddy, and with a saucy "Here, here, quit it, quit it," he flew away.

"Thank you ever so much for helping us," said the little Father Mouse as he ran home.

Buddy Jim stayed a while to see if Red-headed Woodpecker would come back. But he didn't. "He must think I'm one of those fellows who really mean to hurt the birds," said Buddy. "I'm sorry for that. But he wasn't fair, and he's got to learn better. I wish he could behave himself. He's so good looking I can't help liking him. But he's got to play fair. He's got to play fair," said Buddy Jim, striking out for home.

BUDDY JIM AND THE GRAY SQUIRREL FAMILY

_The Golden-Rod was sprinkling Fresh perfume on the air, And the little Milk-weed fairies Were flying everywhere. The blackberries were ripening in The splendid August sun! Said Buddy Jim, "I'm sure there'll be Enough for everyone."_

"Enough of what?" asked Old Bob the gardener, who happened to be passing the porch just that minute.

"O, good morning, Bob," said Buddy, running to meet the old gardener; they were great friends. "Enough blackberries for all of us, is what I meant. For us and the birds too."

"Guess there will be," said Old Bob the gardener, "never did see such a blackbr'y crop as there is this year. Are you thinking of going blackberryin'?"

"Mary the cook said that if I would go and get some that she would make me some jam to have for my breakfasts next winter, with my own name on the labels," said Buddy. "So I'm going to get them today before they ripen too much."

"Well, Buddy," said Old Bob the gardener, "if you are going into that blackbr'y bramble you'd better put on your shoes and stockings, unless you want to get your feet and legs scratched."

"I'll take them along," said Buddy, "and put them on after I get there. It is so much fun to go barefoot in the dewy grass."

So, after getting a shiny new tin pail from Mary the cook, Buddy tied his shoes together by the strings, and hung them around his neck, whistled to Old Dog Sandy, and went across the fields of late clover where the big bumblebees were busy, to the hillside where the blackberries grew.

Such a tangle of bushes as he found there; and all simply _loaded_ with great ripe berries.

Buddy Jim sat down on a fallen log and put on his shoes and stockings, while Old Dog Sandy just nosed around. It was very pleasant up there, Buddy Jim thought. He could look away down on the shining meadows, where the little crooked river ran like a silver ribbon through the green of the wild fields that ran out to the edge of the big woods.

There were very big fish in the river, so Bob the gardener had said, and really wild animals in the forest. Bears and wolves even, and deer. And on dark nights sometimes, Jack O' Lantern danced and swung his light around. Old Bob the gardener had promised that Buddy should go along with him and camp out some night while the men were cutting the wild hay on the shining meadows. He wished he were going there now. Now, this minute! Then he remembered that he had come to pick blackberries.

Old Dog Sandy was not interested in the berries. So he started off by himself to see what he could find. "Look out for old man Porcupine," called Buddy. Sandy looked foolish, and ran away. His mouth was still sore at the corners, because he had sneaked away one day to settle an old score with Prickly Porcupine; and he did not like to be reminded of it.

It was fun to pick the berries, and although Buddy put one in his mouth for every two that he put in the pail, he soon had the pail full. Then he sat down to rest and wait for Old Dog Sandy to come back.

At first there was no noise at all, except the Katy-dids' quarrelling with each other, and then making up again, and the song of the locusts, but presently Buddy became aware of other voices.

"O-dear-O-dear," chattered a small somebody, "it is just as I expected, all the nicest berries are gone! You would loiter so, children, wasting our time on hazel-nuts that won't be ready to eat for a month yet."

"Now never mind, never mind, Mother," said a second small voice, "I'm sure we shall find enough ripe berries for our lunch. Here is a nice big one now, just full of seeds."

"The best thing about blackberries," said the first voice, "is that they are both food and drink."

"Oo--oo--ee--ee," shouted another little voice. "What luck! Somebody has picked a lot of berries and put them in a dish for us, and left them here. Come quickly, Sister, come quickly!"

"Now they've found my pail full of berries," said Buddy. "Children, Children!" called the Mother voice, "don't touch those. It may be a trap!"

"You must _never_ touch anything that has the Man smell about it," said their father.

Very softly, so as not to frighten away those who were making so free with his blackberries, Buddy turned around. And there was Father and Mother and Sister and Brother Gray Squirrel.

They certainly looked funny, with their eager little faces all stained with blackberry juice. Buddy just couldn't help it. He laughed right out loud.

Then they saw him, and as quick as a wink there wasn't a squirrel in sight. They had all whisked like little gray streaks up in the branches of an old birch tree.

But squirrels are such curious little people that they just had to peep, to see who and what was down below them. And Buddy Jim, knowing that they would be back presently, stretched out on the ground and lay very still.

"He seems to be harmless," said Father Squirrel. "He does indeed," said Mother Gray Squirrel. "He _is_ harmless," said Brother Gray Squirrel, "and what is better he is kind. He is the boy who made the nest for Flying Squirrel's family in the barn at haying time. I'm not afraid of him. I'm going down and get my lunch." "So am I," said Sister Gray Squirrel. And they both slid down head first, on the trunk of the big old birch tree. "Help yourselves, Little Neighbors," said Buddy softly. "I won't look. I can gather some more."

With little squeals of joy Sister Gray Squirrel and Brother Gray Squirrel stood up on their haunches and reached their little paws into the pail of berries, and ate and ate. Then they filled their pockets full and the juice all ran down on their little gray dresses, but they didn't care, and then they ran up the big birch tree to take some to Father and Mother. They were just in time, too, for Old Dog Sandy came trotting back and barked at them.

"I'm glad you are safely back," said Mother Gray Squirrel, "for while you may be able to trust _some_ people, you certainly can not trust dogs and cats."

Buddy laughed. "See what a bad opinion folks have of you, Old Dog Sandy," said he, as he filled his pail again.

When he took the berries to Mary the cook, she said, "Your lunch is all cold, Buddy. Didn't you hear the horn?"

"Yes, I heard it," said Buddy. "But I had to pick some more berries. Some little gray tramps ate part of what I had gathered."

"Tramps!" said Mary the cook. "_We_ don't allow tramps here on this farm. You'd better speak to Old Bob the gardener about it."

Buddy Jim smiled. He knew Old Bob the gardener would never object to _his_ little gray tramps!

BUDDY JIM AND THE MUSQUASH CHILD

_The downy purple Gentians Were lately come to town, And the maple trees wore crimson While the oaks were dressed in brown; There came a gentle splashing from The merry-hearted brook Said Buddy Jim, "It's hard to stay Indoors and read a book."_

"Do you find it so, son?" laughed Mother. "Then why don't you take your books out of doors?"

"O may I, Mother?" eagerly asked the little boy. "Of course you may," said his mother, "but you are on your honor, mind! Your lessons must be ready for Father this evening; but if it will be easier to study outside, why not?"

Buddy was delighted. He loved nothing so well as being out of doors, so he wasted no time about getting there. Old Dog Sandy was asleep on the porch. "I guess I won't take him," said Buddy. "He is sure to find some Little Neighbor to bark at, and I've got to study."

Daddy had given Buddy his choice. He could go back to town to school, or he could study and keep up with his grade in the country for two months. And Buddy had voted for the country, so Daddy was his teacher, and he was a very strict one. _Very_ strict!

"I'll go down to the brook," said Buddy. "I know the very place." It was a lovely afternoon. The big yellow pumpkins looked like gold polka-dots in the sun among the shocks of corn. "What a fine place for Cinderella to get a new coach," said Buddy.

At the brook Buddy came to the place where he had once tried to catch Spotty the trout. The same turtle sentinels were asleep on the log, sunning themselves, before they went into their mud beds for the winter. As Buddy came along, splash! went the tiniest turtle into the water. Buddy laughed, "Never mind, Little Neighbor," he said, "I'm not fishing today. I'm going farther down stream."

The place Buddy had in mind for a place to study in was where the brook widened out, getting ready to join the river. A big old tree had fallen there. It reached away out into the swampy land on the farther side.

It made a perfectly splendid place for a little boy to lie and study. Buddy noticed some queer, humpy places across the brook in the swampy land. He wondered what could have made them. But the lessons were hard, so he forgot about everything else until he could say them all backwards. By that time the shadows were getting longer. Buddy was just going to start home, when Splash! something went into the brook. "My!" said Buddy. "That must have been a bear!" Then there was a second splash, and surely there was something swimming across the brook. And then all at once it sank right out of sight. He lay very still, wondering about it. Where could it have gone to? He watched and watched, but he was very sure that it did not come to the surface of the water again. And then all at once there came the patter of little feet along the old log where he lay, and a Little Neighbor almost ran over him, but, seeing him, stopped short and tried to look as though he were not there.

"Don't be afraid, Little Neighbor," said Buddy. "Who's afraid?" asked the Little Neighbor, "I'm not! But what are you doing on our bridge?"

"Is it your bridge?" asked Buddy. "Well, we call it that," said the Little Neighbor. "It is such a splendid place to dive from, when one is carrying something. It's a short-cut home, you see. I've got some corn for supper, and I must hurry. My father and mother just went in. Didn't you see them?"

"Where _is_ your house?" asked Buddy. "Why, that's our house, across there," said the Little Neighbor, pointing to the queer humpy looking thing in the swampy land.

"How do you get into it?" asked Buddy. "And what's your name,--if you don't mind telling me."

"We swim, of course," said the Little Neighbor, "and I am one of the Musquash children. Some folks call us Muskrats, but we don't like that name. We like the Indian name better."

"I saw your father and mother going home," said Buddy, "but they just sank down in the water, and didn't come up. I'd be worried about them if I were in your place."

The Musquash child just laughed. "You don't suppose we go away and leave our front door open so any one can go in, do you?" he said.

"We make a tunnel that leads up to our house, under the water of the brook, and nobody can find it except ourselves. Much better than locking the door."

"What makes you so afraid of people?" asked Buddy. "I guess you would be afraid," said the Musquash child, "if people wanted your skin to make coats of. Traps all about, and spies and enemies, until we never know what is going to happen. But there is Mother calling me. We haven't had supper yet. Goodbye," he called and with a wonderfully big splash for so small a child he swam away.

Buddy watched him out of sight. Then he too went home to supper.

After his lessons were over for the night, Buddy asked, "Daddy, what is a Musquash's skin good for? And why do people hunt them?"

"It's good for a beautiful coat," said Cousin Betty who was visiting there, "if you have money enough. I haven't!"

"Glad you haven't, Cousin Betty," said Buddy, "and I hope that no one _ever_ catches _my_ Little Neighbor, the Musquash child, to make a coat from his skin."

BUDDY JIM AND THE WOOD-CHUCK PEOPLE

_The Mountain Ash was wearing Her beads of coral red, And the fuzzy caterpillars Were all looking for a bed; The Thistle birds were calling, And the air was crisp and clear, "Summer has gone," said Buddy Jim "And Winter'll soon be here."_

"That's so, Son," said Old Bob the gardener, "and that being so, you'd better make hay while the sun shines."

Buddy was used to Old Bob the gardener, and his funny sayings, and so he knew that he didn't really mean that about making hay, because the hay had been made for months, but that he must do whatever there was to _be_ done and not waste time about it.

So he said, "What were you going to tell me to do, Bob?"

"Why," said Old Bob the gardener, with a twinkle in his eye, "I s'pose you don't mean to make the squirrels a present of all the hazel-nuts up in the back pasture, do you?"

"Why, no," said Buddy.

"Well," said Old Bob, "they will be just right to gather today, on account of the frost last night, and if you will spread them out on the flat roof of the garage for a few days the shucks will come off beautifully."

"Thanks for telling me, Bob," said Buddy. "I'll go and get some today."

"They will come in handy evenings in the city," said Old Bob the gardener.

Buddy's smile faded out. He didn't _want_ to go back to the city. But the smile blossomed again right away. He didn't have to go for a few more weeks anyway. "I'll get a basket," said he, "and go right away for the nuts."

"A sack will be much better," said Old Bob the gardener, "it will be easier to carry. Ask Mary the cook for one."

Mary the cook _had_ a flour sack, which she was glad to give to Buddy. She also gave him some sandwiches for his lunch, so that he need not hurry back.

Buddy whistled to Old Dog Sandy, and the two started gaily for the back pasture. There was no hurry, so he thought he would go and see if there were any thorn-apples left. There was a big old hawthorn tree, with low branches, standing all by itself in the pasture. There was a funny sort of ring around it, like a tiny circus ring. Buddy had once asked Old Bob the gardener about it; what had caused it. And he had said that he really didn't know; that it had always been there since he could remember; but that his old grandmother, who came from Ireland, had told him when he was little that it was a fairy ring. Made by the feet of the fairies, when they danced in the moonlight. That they always danced around hawthorn trees.

As Buddy came near to the tree he was thinking about Old Bob's story of the fairies, and wishing he could see them. He was sure he could hear something that sounded like wings rustling, and little voices whispering; it came from the branches of the old hawthorn. For a minute he thought perhaps the tree was full of fairies, resting after their dance in the moonlight. And then Old Dog Sandy came running up, and began to bark, and a whole flock of Bob Whites arose from the tree, and flew away with a whirr into the woods. They had been lunching on the thorn-apples.

"Now see what you've done, Sandy," said Buddy. "You must be more careful; I don't want you to frighten the Little Neighbors. I am always telling you so. Just once more now, and I shall send you home."

Old Dog Sandy hung his head; he just couldn't seem to remember that he must not bark at things; anyway, wild things; they didn't belong to anyone, he thought.

Buddy Jim took only a handful of the crimson thorn-apples; they were not so very good, anyway; and besides, he felt that they belonged to the birds, and it was hazel-nuts that he had come for.

As he got to the hazel thicket he heard small voices chattering and laughing, and caught a glimpse of Red Squirrel and his family, with their pockets just bulging with the hazel-nuts.

When they saw him they all whisked up in a big tree, and hid in the branches. "Don't be afraid, Little Neighbors," called Buddy. "We won't hurt you; it is only when you steal eggs that we don't like you."

But Red Squirrel and his family would not come back. They thought that he might be like other boys they had met, and that he would follow them to their nests, and take away their winter supply of nicely-shelled nuts.

So Buddy started filling his sack with the crisp green and brown clusters of nuts, thinking what a treat they would be for the boys in the city, winter evenings after school. The sack was soon filled, there were so many nuts, and then Buddy sat down to eat his sandwiches and listen to the sounds around him. There was Old Jim Crow's "Ha, Ha," as he flew away from the corn field, and the clear whistle of the Bob Whites as they went back to the hawthorn to finish their lunch, and the "Quick, quick," of Mr. Blue Jay, who is always in a hurry over nothing at all, when suddenly Old Dog Sandy began to bark. Mixed with his barking and growling was a scolding, chattering voice that Buddy had never heard before.

"I wonder," said he to himself, running toward the noises, "what that meddlesome old dog is up to now?"

Old Dog Sandy was dancing about as nimbly as a puppy, in front of a tunnel in the side of a little hillock, barking at a funny little fat figure, which was sitting straight up, with its fore paws hanging down in front of itself.

Old Dog Sandy saw his little master coming, and stopped his barking, for he remembered just too late that he was to be sent home. Just then the little fellow in the tunnel door saw Buddy. "I say," he called, "call off your dog. He makes me nervous; if he comes any nearer I shall bite him. And I can't go indoors until my mate comes back. How do I know he would not kill her, he's so savage? And she's so fat she can't run."

"Go on home, Sandy," said Buddy. "I _told_ you, you know." "Oh don't send him off alone," said the small person, "I don't know which way my mate is coming back; dogs can't be trusted. He might meet her and tear her all to pieces. They always kill all wild creatures," he said. "That's part of their game; just their nature; they can't help it; we have to look out for them, that's all. But I do not want my mate killed, so will you please take him with you when you go?"

"Are you in a hurry for me to go?" asked Buddy, laughing. "Well," said the small person, trying politely not to yawn, "I really am a little sleepy, you know. My mate said she just had to have one more dinner before we go to sleep, so she went over to the turnip field to get it, and I wasn't hungry so I promised to wind the alarm clock. I had just come out to get the correct time from Mr. Sun, when your old dog came along."

"Do you really mean that you have a clock to get up by?" asked Buddy. "Why not? Don't you?" asked the small person. "Though our clock is not like yours; ours is a sort of calendar clock. We must wake up on Candlemas day, you know, else nobody would know what the weather was going to be for the balance of the winter."

"Oh, now I know who you are," said Buddy. "You're Mr. Ground-Hog. Bob the gardener told me about you."

"Some folks call me that, and some folks call me Wood-Chuck," said the small person. "I don't care either way, so long as they do not call me before February the second. But my mate is coming back, so if you will take your dog away so that she can come in, I'll be much obliged to you."

So Buddy and Old Dog Sandy stepped behind a big rock. Buddy peeped out and saw fat little Mrs. Wood-Chuck waddling along, blinking sleepily in the sun. As she joined her mate, in the door of their house, Mr. Wood-Chuck turned and waved a friendly goodbye to Buddy, who slung his sack of nuts over his shoulder and started home.

"Old Dog Sandy found a wood-chuck's hole up in the pasture," said Buddy to Old Bob the gardener, while they were spreading the nuts on the garage roof.

"Did you see them?" asked Old Bob the gardener. "Yes, I did," said Buddy. "They were very fat and sleepy."

"They were just going to den up," said Old Bob the gardener; "they will sleep till Candlemas day now."

"Do they really come out to find their shadow on that day, Bob?" asked Buddy.