Chapter II: Part 2

"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.

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.

"Guess they must," said Old Bob the gardener, "every body says so," and he went away humming to himself,

"Half the corn and half the hay
And half the oats on Candlemas day."

BUDDY JIM AND THE CHIPMUNK FAMILY

_The world had turned to silver
Sometime throughout the night,
Each weed and twig, and shrub and tree
Wore robes of daintiest white;
The big round sun peeped out and smiled--
The world smiled back; "Oh look!"
Cried Buddy Jim, "It's like a page
From a fairy picture-book!"_

Of course Buddy knew all about _why_ the world was wearing lacy white dresses; Jack Frost had come and dressed it all up in the night to be sure; but he had not known how lovely it would be. Why, it looked exactly like a whole world full of glittering gems, like those Mother wore in her hair when she was going to a party.

Just then, around the corner, came Old Bob the gardener. He had a sharp and shiny axe in his hand. "Hello, Buddy," said he, "Want to do something for me?" "'Deed I do," said the little boy. He was always anxious to do something for Bob, because the two were great chums.

"I've got an axe to grind," said Old Bob the gardener, "and I want you to turn the grindstone for me. We are going up to the beech woods this forenoon to cut out the dead-and-down trees for wood, and old wood needs sharp axes."

"I like to turn the grindstone," said Buddy, as he started the big wheel slowly turning around on its axis, watching Bob the gardener as he held the axe closely against it, and poured water on the stone from time to time.

"Why do you put water on the stone, Bob?" he asked.

"So it won't get heated by the friction," said Old Bob the gardener, "it would spoil the stone if I didn't wet it, and the axe too, very likely. But there goes the breakfast gong, and the axe is sharp and I am much obliged to you, Buddy."

"You're welcome," said Buddy, as he made a dash for breakfast.

When breakfast was over, Buddy went out of doors, and found Old Bob the gardener just ready to go.

"Know of any youngster who would care to go beech-nutting this morning?" called Bob to Buddy Jim. "If you do, tell him to bring along a sack to put the nuts in, because there'll be beech-nuts a plenty after the fine frost we had last night."

"I certainly do know a youngster who wants to go," said Buddy, "and he will be all ready as soon as he finds a sack for the nuts, and puts on some hiking shoes. So be sure to call him, won't you Bob?"