Chapter 2

He had no difficulty at all in finding her. But he had no end of trouble trying to persuade her to travel with him the new way, instead of going along with the crowd in the good, old-fashioned style. In fact, she raised so many objections, saying how lonely it would be and how dangerous it was to travel in a small party and that she didn't want to be fashionable--she raised so many objections that at last Jolly Robin said very well! she might do as she pleased. But as for him, _he_ was going to meet Jasper Jay just as he had promised. And since the new way was easier, he expected to reach their winter home long before she arrived, even if he did start a day later.

But he was disappointed, all the same. And he kept up such a constant laughing and joking all the rest of that day that his wife knew he must be feeling quite out of sorts.

For that was a way Jolly Robin had. The worse he felt, the happier he always acted. And it was not a bad way, either.

VIII

JOLLY IS LEFT BEHIND

All of Jolly Robin's friends and relations were greatly surprised when they saw him bidding his wife and children good-by, on the day the Robin family started from Pleasant Valley for their winter home in the South.

"What's this?" they cried. "Aren't you coming with us?"

And Jolly Robin laughed and said to them gaily:

"Not to-day! But you'll find me waiting for you when you reach your journey's end."

His wife, however, shook her head.

"It's one of his queer notions--his and Jasper Jay's," she explained.

"Tut, tut!" her husband said. And he chucked her under the chin--and winked at his friends.

There was no time to say anything more, for everyone was eager to start. So the travellers called good-by to Jolly, while he waved a farewell to them.

It was not many minutes before he was the only member of the Robin family left in Pleasant Valley. He felt very lonely, all at once. And he wanted to hurry after the others. But he knew what Jasper Jay would say, if he did. Jasper would be sure to tell people that Jolly Robin was _afraid_ to travel a new way.... Of course, Jolly didn't want that to be said about him. So he looked as cheerful as he could; and he whistled the merriest tune he knew. Nobody--except his wife, maybe--would have guessed that he wasn't perfectly happy.

Jolly spent a very lonely night. When he went to the roost where the whole Robin family had been sleeping for several weeks, he found it distressingly silent, after the gay chatter that he had grown accustomed to hearing there. And try as he would, he could not keep just a hint of sadness out of his good-night song.

But in the morning he felt better. And he welcomed the dawn with a carol that was joyous enough for anybody. For this was the day when Jasper Jay was going to show him the new way to travel. Yes! he, too, would soon be hurrying southwards, where the sun was warm.

It was no wonder that he sang, "_Cheerily-cheerup, cheerily-cheerup_," right merrily.

As soon as he had eaten his breakfast, Jolly went to the place where the beeches grew, to find Jasper Jay. And Jasper was there, just finishing his own breakfast. But he was too busy, he said, to bother with Jolly Robin just then.

"You meet me in the orchard this afternoon," he said, "when the sun's over the mountain, and I'll start you on your journey."

So Jolly Robin had to wait all the long day, while Jasper Jay did a hundred silly things, such as mocking Farmer Green's cat, and teasing a sleepy young owl, and making the woods echo with his hoarse screams. Jasper was late, too, in keeping his appointment in the orchard. Jolly Robin waited for him until almost sunset before Jasper Jay appeared. But Jolly was so glad to see Jasper that he never once thought of being angry with him.

"Come along!" said the blue-coated rascal. "Follow me and you'll soon learn the new way to the South. And if it isn't a good one I hope I'll never eat another beechnut."

Jolly Robin laughed. He was sure, then, that he had nothing to worry about. For everybody knew that Jasper Jay was specially fond of beechnuts.

IX

JOLLY'S MISTAKE

With Jolly Robin following close behind him, Jasper Jay flew directly to the crossroads, almost half-way to the village. Once there, he perched himself upon the sign-post at the four corners. And Jolly Robin seated himself upon one of the boards that were nailed to the post.

"Here we are!" said Jasper Jay. "You see how easy it is."

"When will the post begin to move?" Jolly Robin inquired, a bit anxiously. He had waited a whole day to begin his long journey to the South, so it was only natural that he should want to start at once.

"What's that you say?" asked Jasper Jay. And when Jolly repeated his question, Jasper began to scream with laughter. "Well, that's a good one!" he said at last. "So you thought the post was going to pull itself out of the ground and fly away with you, did you?"

"Why, yes!" Jolly Robin replied. "Aren't these _wings_?" he asked, looking down at the boards. "They're already spread," he observed.

It was some minutes before Jasper Jay could answer him, for he was laughing again. But finally he managed to speak.

"Those aren't wings!" he cried. "They're sign-boards, to tell you which road to take. Of course, you can't expect to read a sign when you're sitting on it. Just go over to the fence across the road and you can see the sign that you're on now."

So Jolly Robin fluttered over to the fence. And from there he could see the sign-board plainly. This is what it looked like:

TO SKY POND, 15 MILES

"There!" Jasper Jay cried, when Jolly had read the sign aloud. "You see how easy it is. All you need do is to follow this road to which the hand points."

"Then I shall have to fly, after all," Jolly Robin said. He had expected to have a ride. And naturally he was disappointed. Then he read the sign once more. "Sky Pond!" he exclaimed. "I don't want to go to Sky Pond. I want to go to the South!"

"Well, Sky Pond's south of Pleasant Valley," Jasper Jay explained. "It's right on your way to your winter home. And all you have to do when you reach Sky Pond will be to find another sign, which ought to say something like this: 'To the South, one thousand miles.' You see how simple it is," Jasper Jay remarked. "With a sign-board to guide you, you can't go wrong."

But it seemed to Jolly that the new way of travelling was far more difficult than the old. He said as much to Jasper Jay, too. "I wish----" he added--"I wish I had started yesterday, with the others."

At that Jasper Jay said, "Nonsense!" And he muttered something about dunces, and mollycoddles, and--yes! _'fraid-cats!_

Perhaps Jasper hadn't intended that Jolly Robin should hear those words--and perhaps he had. Anyhow, he was sorry afterward that he had spoken so loud. For the first thing he knew, Jolly Robin flew straight at him with shrill chirps of rage. And Jasper was so surprised--and frightened, too--that he flew off as fast as he could go, following the road that led to Sky Pond, fifteen miles away, with Jolly Robin after him.

Jolly chased him for a long time, until at last Jasper Jay swerved to one side and turned toward home.

But Jolly Robin followed him no longer. He kept straight on, and on, and on. And he flew so fast and so far before he stopped that he overtook the party that had started a whole day ahead of him.

So he travelled to his winter home in the old-fashioned way, after all. And though Jolly Robin laughed when he told his friends about Jasper Jay's new style of travelling, there was one thing over which he could not smile, even then.

You see, "'fraid-cat" was a name he couldn't abide.

X

THE WHITE GIANT

It was a raw March day when Jolly Robin returned to Pleasant Valley one spring. There had just been a heavy fall of snow--big, wet flakes which Farmer Green called "sugar-snow," though it was no sweeter than any other. Johnnie Green liked that kind of snow because it made the best snowballs. And he had had a fine time playing in the orchard near the farmhouse, not long before Jolly Robin appeared there.

Now, the orchard was the place where Jolly Robin and his wife had had their nest the summer before. So it was natural that he should want to go there at once and look about a bit.

He perched himself on a bare limb, where he sang "_Cheerily-cheerup_" a few times, in spite of the snow and the cold, whistling wind. He knew that the weather would grow warmer soon; and he was glad to be in Pleasant Valley once more, though he had to confess to himself that he liked the orchard better when the grass was green and the trees were gay with apple-blossoms.

"It's really a beautiful place for a home," he told himself. "I don't wonder that Farmer Green likes to live near the orchard. And now I'll just go over to the house and see if I can't get a peep at him and his wife and his boy, Johnnie--and the hired-man, too."

So Jolly Robin jumped off the bough and started through the frosty air toward the farmhouse. But all at once he saw a sight that sent him darting into a tree. He hid there for a while and something made him shiver--something besides the cold wind.

Yes! Jolly Robin was the least bit frightened. For he had caught a glimpse of a strange man. It was neither Farmer Green nor his hired-man, for this was a giant. He had big, black eyes and a great lump of a nose, which stuck out queerly from his pale moon-face. He was dressed all in white, except for a battered, old, black hat, which he wore tipped over one eye. In one hand he held a stick. And it seemed to Jolly Robin that the queer man was just about to hurl it at something.

In spite of his uneasiness, Jolly peeped around his tree and watched the stranger. But he did not throw the stick. He stood quite still and seemed to be waiting. And Jolly Robin waited, too, and stared at him.

"Maybe there's a squirrel hiding behind a tree," he said to himself. "Perhaps this man in white is going to throw the stick as soon as the squirrel shows himself."

But no squirrel appeared. And Jolly Robin was just about to start for the farmhouse again when he saw somebody pop out of the woodshed door and come running toward the orchard.

"Here's Johnnie Green!" Jolly exclaimed. He knew Johnnie at once, because neither Farmer Green nor the hired-man ever went hopping and skipping about like that.

Pretty soon Jolly saw Johnnie Green stop and make an armful of snowballs. And then he went straight toward the stranger in white. Though Johnnie began to shout, the man in white did not even turn his head. And then Johnnie Green shied a snowball at him.

The snowball sailed through the air and struck the stranger's battered hat, knocking it off into the snow. And, of course, Jolly Robin couldn't help laughing. He was more surprised than ever, too, because the moon-faced man did not move even then. Anyone else would have wheeled about and chased Johnnie Green. But this odd gentleman didn't seem to know that his hat had been knocked off.

"That's queer!" said Jolly Robin to himself. "He must be asleep. But I should think he would wake up."

While Jolly was wondering, Johnnie Green threw another snowball. And when it struck the stranger a very peculiar thing happened.

And Jolly Robin did not laugh. He was too frightened to do anything but gasp.

XI

WHAT A SNOWBALL DID

Jolly Robin was too frightened to laugh when he saw Johnnie Green's second snowball strike the moon-faced stranger in the orchard. You see, the snowball hit one of the stranger's arms. And to Jolly's amazement, the arm at once dropped off and dashed upon the ground, breaking into a dozen pieces.

That alone was enough to startle Jolly Robin. But the moon-faced man paid not the slightest attention to the accident. There was something ghostly in the way he stood there, all in white, never moving, never once saying a word.

But Johnnie Green did not seem frightened at all. He set up a great shouting and began to let fly his snowballs as fast as he could throw them.

They did not all find the mark. But the very last one struck the silent stranger squarely upon his left ear. And to Jolly Robin's horror, his head toppled off and fell horridly at his feet.

Jolly Robin fully expected the man in white to turn and chase Johnnie Green then--or at least to hurl his stick at Johnnie. But nothing of the sort happened. And Jolly did not wait for anything more. He felt that he had seen quite enough. So he flew away to the shelter of the woods, to find somebody to whom he could talk and tell of the strange thing that had happened in the orchard.

Over in the woods Jolly was lucky enough to meet Jimmy Rabbit, who was always very friendly toward him. And as soon as he had inquired about Jimmy Rabbit's health (they had not seen each other since the previous fall, you know), Jolly related how he had seen Johnnie Green knock off the head of the man in the orchard.

"And the man never paid the slightest heed to what happened," said Jolly Robin. "He had a stick in his hand; but he didn't throw it."

"There's nothing queer about that," Jimmy Rabbit remarked. "How could he see where to throw his stick, when he had no head?"

But Jolly Robin could not answer that question. And he looked more puzzled than ever.

"I don't understand it," he said with a shake of his own head. "The whole affair was very odd. I'm afraid I shall not care to live in the orchard this summer, especially if there's a headless man there! For how can he ever see to leave the orchard?"

It was Jimmy Rabbit's turn to look puzzled, for that was a question that he couldn't answer.

"Maybe there is something queer about this case," he said. "I'll go over to the orchard to-morrow and take a look at that headless stranger and see what I think about him. If you'll meet me here we can go together."

Now, Jolly Robin had almost decided that he would never go near the orchard again. But he felt that if he went with Jimmy Rabbit there ought not to be much danger. So he agreed to Jimmy's suggestion.

"I'll be here before the morning's gone," he promised.

XII

JOLLY FEELS BETTER

Jolly Robin awoke at dawn. And he knew at once that the day was going to be a fine one. Though the sun had not yet peeped above the rim of the eastern hills, Jolly Robin was sure that there would be plenty of sunshine a little later. He had many ways of his own for telling the weather; and he never made a mistake about it.

Now, it had grown quite warm by the time Jolly Robin went to the woods late in the morning to meet Jimmy Rabbit. And the snow had melted away as if by magic.

"Summer's coming! Summer's coming!" Jolly called joyfully as soon as Jimmy Rabbit came hopping into sight. "The apple-blossoms will burst out before we know it."

"Yes--and the cabbages, too," Jimmy Rabbit replied. "I'm glad the white giant in the orchard lost his head," he added, "because there's no telling what he would have done to the cabbages later, if he had wandered into the garden. He might have eaten every one of them. And I shouldn't have liked that very well."

Then they started off together toward the orchard to look at the headless stranger who had given Jolly Robin such a fright the day before. Jimmy Rabbit went bounding along with great leaps, while Jolly Robin flew above him and tried not to go too fast for his long-eared friend.

Once in the orchard, Jolly led Jimmy to the spot where he had seen Johnnie Green knock off the giant's head with the snowball.

"Here he is!" Jolly Robin whispered--for he was still somewhat afraid of the giant, in spite of his having lost his head. "He doesn't seem as big as he was yesterday. And he has dropped the stick that he carried."

Jimmy Rabbit stopped short in his tracks and stared at the still figure under the apple tree. For a few moments he did not speak.

"That looks to me like _snow_," he said at last. And he crept up to what was left of the giant and sniffed at him. "It _is_ snow!" he declared.

When he heard that, Jolly Robin flew to a low branch just above the giant.

"I don't understand it," he said. "There's his head on the ground, with the big, black eyes. _They_ certainly aren't made of snow."

"No!" Jimmy Rabbit agreed, as he sniffed at the terrible eyes. "They're _butternuts_--that's what they are!"

Well, Jolly Robin was so surprised that he all but tumbled off his perch.

"There's his hat--" he continued, as he clung to the limb--"that's a real hat. It's not made of snow--or butternuts, either."

"Yes!" Jimmy Rabbit said. "It's a sure-enough hat. Farmer Green wore it on Sundays for a good many years. I've often seen him starting for the meeting-house over the hill with this very hat on his head."

"Then the giant stole it from him!" Jolly Robin cried in great excitement.

But Jimmy Rabbit thought differently.

"It's my opinion--" he said--"it's my opinion that Johnnie Green took this old hat and put it on the giant's head, after he had made him."

"Made him!" Jolly Robin repeated. "You don't mean to say that Johnnie Green could make a giant, do you?"

"Well, he knows how to make a snow-man--so I've been told," Jimmy Rabbit replied. "And though I've never seen one before, it's plain that that's what this creature is."

Jolly Robin had listened with growing wonder. Spending his winters in the South, as he did, he had never even heard of a snow-man.

"Are they dangerous--these snow-men?" he inquired anxiously.

"This one certainly isn't," Jimmy Rabbit told him. "With his head off, he can't do any harm. And with the sun shining so warm I should say that by to-morrow he'll be gone for good. It looks to me as if he might be the last snow-man of the winter, for I don't believe there'll be any more snow until next fall."

"Good!" Jolly Robin cried. "I shall come back to the orchard to live, after all, just as I had intended." And he felt so happy that he began to sing.

"I'm glad I brought you here to see the snow giant," he told Jimmy Rabbit, when he had finished his song. "But when my wife and I start to build our summer-house a little later in the spring, I hope you'll say nothing to her about this affair. It might upset her, you know, if she knew that a giant lost his head in the orchard--even if he was made of snow."

"I understand!" said Jimmy Rabbit. "And I won't mention the matter to her. You're afraid she might lose _her_ head, I suppose, if she heard about it."

Having made a joke, Jimmy Rabbit thought it was a good time for him to be leaving. So he said good-by and hopped briskly away.

And Jolly Robin's wife never knew that her husband and Jimmy Rabbit had a secret that they did not tell her.

Of course, if they had told her it would have been no secret at all.

XIII

THE HERMIT

Though Jolly Robin was quite bold for his size, he had a cousin who was actually shy. This timid relation of Jolly's belonged to the Hermit Thrush family; and Jolly Robin always spoke of him as "The Hermit," which was a good name for him, because he never strayed from the depths of the swamp near Black Creek. At least, he stayed there all summer long, until the time came for him to go South.

If Jolly Robin wanted to see this shy cousin, he had to go into the swamp. For the Hermit never repaid any of Jolly's calls. He was afraid of Farmer Green and the other people that lived in the farmhouse. Apple orchards, and gardens and open fields he considered good places to avoid, because he thought them dangerous.

"There's no place to live that's quite as safe and pleasant as a swamp," he often remarked. "I have one brother who prefers an evergreen thicket, which doesn't make a bad home. And another brother of mine lives in some bushes near a road. But how he can like such a dwelling-place as that is more than I can understand."

Now, there were two things for which this cousin of Jolly Robin's was noted. He was an exquisite singer; and he always wore a fine, spotted waistcoat.

Jolly always admired the Hermit's singing. But he didn't like his spotted waistcoat at all.

"That cousin of mine is too much of a dandy," Jolly remarked to his wife one day. "I'm going to pay him a visit this afternoon. And I shall speak to him about that waistcoat he's so fond of wearing. It's well enough for city birds to dress in such finery. But it's a foppish thing for anybody to wear way up here in the country."

Jolly's wife told him plainly that he had better mind his own business.

"It's no affair of yours," she said. "And you ought not to mention the matter to your cousin."

Jolly Robin did not answer her. He thought there was no use arguing with his wife. And since the Hermit was his own cousin, he saw no reason why he shouldn't tell his relation exactly what he thought.

The Hermit appeared glad to see Jolly Robin when he came to the swamp that afternoon. At least, the Hermit said he was much pleased. He had very polished manners for a person that lived in a swamp. Beside him, Jolly Robin seemed somewhat awkward and clownish. But then, Jolly always claimed that he was just a plain, rough-and-ready countryman.

"I never put on any airs," he often said. "Farmer Green and I are a good deal alike in that respect."

After the Hermit had inquired about Jolly's health, and that of his wife as well, he smoothed down his spotted vest, flicked a bit of moss off his tail, and said that if Jolly cared to hear him he would sing one of his best songs.

"I'd like to hear you sing!" Jolly told him.

So the Hermit sang a very sweet and tender melody, which was quite different from Jolly's cheery carols.

It was a great pleasure to hear such a beautiful song. And Jolly Robin was so delighted that he began to laugh heartily the moment his cousin had finished the final note.

"I wouldn't laugh, if I were you," the Hermit reproved him mildly. "That's a sad song.... If you care to weep, I'd be more than gratified," he said. And he shuddered slightly, because Jolly's boisterous laughter grated upon his sensitive nerves.

You can see, just from that, that the Hermit was a very different person from his merry cousin, Jolly Robin.

XIV

ONE OR TWO BLUNDERS

Jolly Robin's cousin, the Hermit, seemed much disappointed because Jolly did not weep after hearing the beautiful, sad song. But no matter how mournful a song might be, Jolly Robin could no more have shed tears over it than a fish could have. Naturally, a fish never weeps, because it would be a silly thing to do. Surrounded by water as he is, a fish could never see his own tears. And so all the weeping he might do would be merely wasted.

Not wanting to hurt his cousin's feelings, Jolly Robin said that he would try to weep after he went home. And that made the Hermit feel happier once more.

"Perhaps you'd like to see our eggs?" he suggested.

And since Jolly Robin said he would be delighted to look at them, if the Hermit's wife had no objection, his cousin led him further into the swamp. And there, in a nest of moss and leaves, lined with pine needles, the Hermit proudly pointed to three greenish blue eggs, somewhat smaller than those in Jolly's own nest in Farmer Green's orchard.

Jolly Robin stared at the nest in amazement. And pretty soon the Hermit grew quite uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You seem surprised."

"I certainly am!" Jolly Robin cried. "How do you dare do it?"

"Do what?" his cousin inquired uneasily.

"Why, you and your wife have built your nest on the ground!"

"Well, why shouldn't we?" the Hermit asked. And he looked the least bit angry.

"But everybody knows that the best place for a nest is in a tree," Jolly Robin told him.

His cousin shook his head at that.

"It's a matter of taste," he said. "Our family have always preferred to build their nests on the ground. And as for me, I shall continue to follow their example.... It suits me very well," he added.

Jolly Robin couldn't help laughing, the sight struck him as being such an odd one.