Title: The Tale of Chirpy Cricket
Author: Bailey, Arthur Scott, 1877-1949
Language: English
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Sleepy-Time Tales
(Trademark Registered)

THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET



[Illustration: Chirpy Discovers Mr. Cricket Frog. (Page 77)]



New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers

Copyright, 1920, by
Grosset & Dunlap



CONTENTS

CHAPTER                               PAGE
      I  The Fiddler                     1
     II  Quick and Easy                  6
    III  The Bumblebee Family           10
     IV  Too Much Music                 15
      V  A Light in the Dark            20
     VI  A Plan Goes Wrong              24
    VII  Johnnie Green's Guest          30
   VIII  Pleasing Johnnie Green         35
     IX  An Interrupted Nap             40
      X  Caught!                        44
     XI  A Queer, New Cousin            48
    XII  An Underground Chat            52
   XIII  A Question of Feet             57
    XIV  Chirpy is Careful              61
     XV  Tommy Tree Cricket             66
    XVI  A Long Wait                    71
   XVII  Sitting on a Lily-Pad          76
  XVIII  Mr. Cricket Frog's Trick       81
    XIX  It Wasn't Thunder              86
     XX  Bound to be Different          91
    XXI  Mr. Nighthawk Explains         96
   XXII  Harmless Mr. Meadow Mouse     101
  XXIII  A Wail in the Dark            107
   XXIV  Frightening Simon Screecher   112



THE TALE OF
CHIRPY CRICKET

I

THE FIDDLER


If Chirpy Cricket had begun to make music earlier in the summer perhaps
he wouldn't have given so much time to fiddling in Farmer Green's
farmyard. Everybody admitted that Chirpy was the most musical insect in
the whole neighborhood. And it seemed as if he tried his hardest to crowd
as much music as possible into a few weeks, though he had been silent
enough during all the spring.

He had dug himself a hole in the ground, under some straw that was
scattered near the barn; and every night, from midsummer on, he came out
and made merry.

But in the daytime he was usually quiet as a mouse, sitting inside his
hole and doing nothing at all except to wait patiently until it should be
dark again, so that he might crawl forth from his hiding place and take
up his music where he had left it unfinished the night before.

Somehow he always knew exactly where to begin. Although he carried no
sheets of music with him, he never had to stop and wonder what note to
begin on, for the reason that he always fiddled on the same one.

When rude people asked Chirpy Cricket--as they did now and then--why he
didn't change his tune, he always replied that a person couldn't change
anything without taking time. And since he expected to make only a short
stay in Pleasant Valley he didn't want to fritter away any precious
moments.

Chirpy Cricket's neighbors soon noticed that he carried his fiddle with
him everywhere he went. And the curious ones asked him a question.
"Why"--they inquired--"why are you forever taking your fiddle with you?"

And Chirpy Cricket reminded them that the summer would be gone almost
before anybody knew it. He said that when he wanted to play a tune he
didn't intend to waste any valuable time hunting for his fiddle.

Now, all that was true enough. But it was just as true that he couldn't
have left his fiddle at home anyhow. Chirpy made his music with his two
wings. He rubbed a file-like ridge of one on a rough part of the other.
So his fiddle--if you could call it by that name--just naturally had to
go wherever he did.

_Cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_ When that shrill sound, all on one note,
rang out in the night everybody that heard it knew that Chirpy Cricket
was sawing out his odd music. And the warmer the night the faster he
played. He liked warm weather. Somehow it seemed to make him feel
especially lively.

People who wanted to be disagreeable were always remarking in Chirpy
Cricket's hearing that they hoped there would be an early frost. They
thought of course he would know they were tired of his music and wished
he would keep still.

But such speeches only made him fiddle the faster. "An early frost!" he
would exclaim. "I must hurry if I'm to finish my summer's fiddling."

Now, Chirpy had dozens and dozens of relations living in holes of their
own, in the farmyard or the fields. And the gentlemen were all musical.
Like him, they were fiddlers. Somehow fiddling ran in their family. So on
warm nights, during the last half of the summer, there was sure to be a
Crickets' concert.

Sometimes it seemed to Johnnie Green, who lived in the farmhouse, as if
Chirpy Cricket and his relations were trying to drown the songs of the
musical Frog family, over in the swamp.



II

QUICK AND EASY


Of course Chirpy Cricket didn't spend all his time merely sitting quietly
in his hole, in the daytime--and fiddling every night. Of course he had
to eat. And each night he was in the habit of creeping out of his hole
and gathering spears of grass in Farmer Green's yard, which he carried
home with him.

He called that "doing his marketing." And it was lucky for him that he
liked grass, there was so much of it to be had. All he had to do was to
step outside his door; and there it was, all around him! It made
housekeeping an easy matter and left him plenty of time, every night, to
fiddle and frolic.

Somehow Chirpy could never go from one place to another in a slow, sober
walk. He always moved by leaps, as if he felt too gay to plod along like
Daddy Longlegs, for instance. Chirpy himself often remarked that he
hadn't time to move slowly. And almost before he had finished speaking,
as likely as not he would jump into the air and alight some distance
away. It was all done so quickly that a person could scarcely see how it
happened. But Chirpy Cricket said it was as easy as anything. And having
leaped like that, often he would begin to shuffle his wings together the
moment he landed on the ground, thereby making his shrill music.

Many of his neighbors declared that he believed a short life and a merry
one was the best kind. And when they thought of Timothy Turtle, who was
so old that nobody could even guess his age, and was so disagreeable and
snappish that every one kept out of his way, the neighbors decided that
possibly Chirpy Cricket's way was the better of the two. Anyhow, there
was no doubt that Timothy Turtle believed in a long life and a grumpy
one.

All Chirpy's relations were of the same mind as he. They acted as if they
would rather make the nights ring with their music than do anything else.
And Johnnie Green said one evening, when he heard Solomon Owl hooting
over in the hemlock woods, that it was lucky there weren't as many Owls
as there were Crickets in the valley.

If there were hundreds--or maybe thousands--of Owls, and they all hooted
at the same time, there'd be no sleeping for anybody. At least that was
Johnnie Green's opinion. And it does seem a reasonable one.

Chirpy Cricket's nearest relations all looked exactly like him. Everybody
said that the Crickets bore a strong family resemblance to one another.
But there were others--more distant cousins--that were quite unlike
Chirpy. There were the Mole Crickets, who stayed in the ground and never,
never came to the surface; and there were the Tree Crickets, who lived in
the trees and fiddled _re-teat! re-teat re-teat!_ until you might have
thought they would get tired of their ditty.

But they never did. They seemed to like their music as much as Chirpy
Cricket liked his _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_



III

THE BUMBLEBEE FAMILY


The farmyard was not the first place that Chirpy Cricket chose for his
home. Before he dug himself a hole under the straw near the barn he had
settled in the pasture. Although the cows seemed to think that the grass
in the pasture belonged to them alone, Chirpy decided that there ought to
be enough for him too, if he didn't eat too much.

He had been living in the pasture some time before he discovered that a
very musical family had come to live next door to him. They were known as
the Bumblebees; and there were dozens of them huddled into a hole long
since deserted by some Woodchucks that had moved to other quarters.

Although they were said to be great workers--most of them!--the Bumblebee
family found plenty of time to make music. They were very fond of
humming. And in the beginning Chirpy Cricket thought their humming a
pleasant sound to hear, as he sat in his dark hole during the daytime.

"They're having a party in there!" he said, the first time he noticed the
droning music. "No doubt"--he added--"no doubt they're enjoying a
dance!"

The thought made him feel so jolly that if it had only been dark out of
doors he would have left his home and leaped about in the pasture.

All that day, between naps, Chirpy could hear the humming. "It's
certainly a long party!" he exclaimed, when he awoke late in the
afternoon and heard the Bumblebee family still making music. But about
sunset their humming stopped. And Chirpy Cricket couldn't help feeling a
bit disappointed, because he had hoped to enjoy a dance himself, to the
Bumblebees' music when he left his home that evening.

A little later he told his favorite cousin about the party that had
lasted all day. And Chirpy said that he supposed the Bumblebees had only
one party a year, because he understood that most of them were great
workers, and he didn't believe they would care to spend a whole day
humming, very often.

The favorite cousin gave Chirpy a strange look in the moonlight. And then
he began to fiddle, making no remark whatsoever. He thought there was no
use wasting words on a fine, warm night--just the sort of night for a
lively _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_

Chirpy Cricket lost no time in getting his own fiddle to working. And
each of them really believed he was himself making most of the music that
was heard in the pasture.

Once in a while Chirpy Cricket and his cousin stopped to eat a little
grass, or paused to carry a few spears into their holes, because they
liked to have something to nibble on in the daytime. But they always
returned to their fiddling again; and they never stopped for good until
almost morning.

But at last Chirpy Cricket announced that he would make no more music
that night.

"I'll go home now," he said. "I expect to have a good day's rest. And
I'll meet you at this same spot to-morrow night for a little fiddling."

"I'll be here," his favorite cousin promised.



IV

TOO MUCH MUSIC


It was just beginning to grow light in the east when Chirpy Cricket
crawled into his hole in the pasture, after his fiddling with his
favorite cousin. Having spent a good deal of the previous day in
listening to the humming of the musical Bumblebee family, who lived next
door to him, Chirpy was more than ready to rest.

All was quiet at that hour of the morning, except for the creaky fiddling
of a relation of Chirpy's who didn't appear to know that it was time to
go home. But Chirpy Cricket didn't mind that. Fiddling never bothered
him.

He never knew whether he had fallen asleep or not. He may have been only
day-dreaming. Anyhow, all at once he noticed a rumbling sound, which grew
louder and louder as he listened.

"They're at it again!" Chirpy Cricket exclaimed. "The Bumblebee family
have begun their music. I do hope they aren't going to have another
all-day party, for I don't want my rest disturbed."

But he soon found that the Bumblebees were not tuning up for nothing.
Before long they were humming and buzzing away as if they hadn't a care
in the world.

"I declare,"--Chirpy cried, although there was no one but himself to
hear--"I declare, they're dancing again! It can't be long after sunrise,
either. And no doubt they won't stop till sunset."

He began to feel very much upset. He could understand why people should
want to make music by night, and hop about in a lively fashion, too. But
by day--ah! that was another matter.

Being unable to rest, on account of the uproar from the Bumblebees'
house, Chirpy crept out of his door and stood blinking in the pasture.
Soon he noticed a plump person sitting on a head of clover which the cows
had overlooked. Chirpy couldn't see clearly who he was, coming up out of
the darkness as he had. But he was glad there was somebody to talk to,
anyhow.

"Good morning!" he greeted the person on the clover-top, adding in a
lower tone, "They're a queer family--those Bumblebees!"

To his great dismay, the person to whom he had spoken began to buzz. And
leaping nearer him, in order to see him better, Chirpy Cricket discovered
that he had been talking to Buster Bumblebee! Buster was a blundering,
good-natured chap. And to Chirpy's relief, instead of getting angry he
merely laughed.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Chirpy told him. "If I'm
disagreeable this morning, it's because I need a good rest. And your
family's humming disturbs me."

"Why do you think we're queer?" Buster asked him.

"Don't you call it a bit odd--having a dance at this time of day?"

"Bless you! They're not dancing in there!" Buster Bumblebee cried.
"That's the workers storing away the honey. They're always buzzing like
that. Perhaps you didn't know that our honey-makers can't work without
being noisy. To tell the truth, they wake me every morning. And often I'd
rather sleep."

"Will they keep this racket up all summer?" Chirpy inquired.

"On all pleasant days!" Buster Bumblebee said.

"Then," said Chirpy Cricket, "I'll have to move to a quieter
neighborhood. This humming every day would soon drive me frantic."

"I don't blame you," Buster Bumblebee told him. "I've often felt that way
myself."



V

A LIGHT IN THE DARK


Chirpy Cricket preferred the dark to the day. He was quite different from
Jennie Junebug and Mehitable Moth, who dearly loved a light at night, and
would dash joyously into any they saw.

There was only one light that Chirpy Cricket was always glad to see. He
thought Freddie Firefly's flashes looked very cheerful as they twinkled
about the farmyard. And he often told Freddie that he would be willing to
linger above ground in the daytime now and then, if only Freddie would
stay with him and make merry with his light.

But Freddie Firefly knew enough to decline the invitation. He was well
aware that nobody could see his light when the sun was shining. And he
was afraid that other merrymakers in the farmyard might make matters far
from merry for him. For Freddie Firefly feared all birds. At night he
used his trusty light to frighten Mr. Nighthawk or Willie Whip-poor-will.
But he didn't intend to run any risk in the daytime, with Jolly Robin or
Rusty Wren.

Chirpy Cricket soon saw that it was useless to try to get Freddie Firefly
to enjoy an outing with him by daylight. So every night he spent as much
time as he could in Freddie's company.

If the truth were known, Chirpy Cricket wished that he had a light of his
own. And he couldn't help hoping that sooner or later Freddie Firefly
would offer to lend him his.

Night after night the two met in the farmyard. But nothing seemed further
from Freddie Firefly's thoughts than lending his brilliant greenish-white
light to Chirpy Cricket, or to any one else.

But Chirpy simply couldn't keep his eyes off that wonderful flash-light
when Freddie Firefly was in the neighborhood. People began to notice that
he even stopped fiddling sometimes, to stare at Freddie Firefly.

At last Chirpy Cricket made up his mind that if he was ever going to
borrow the light he would have to ask Freddie for it. Several nights
passed before he could think of a good reason for using it. But after a
while he thought of a fine one. So he went straight to Freddie Firefly.

"I'm going to see Miss Christabel Cricket home after the music is over
tonight," Chirpy said, "and I've been wondering if you'd be willing to do
me a favor."

"Why, certainly!" Freddie Firefly told him.

"Will you loan me your light?" Chirpy asked him. "You know there'll be no
moon when it's time to go home. And your light would be a great help to
me, for Miss Christabel lives beyond the barnyard fence."

For just a few moments Freddy Firefly appeared greatly surprised. To tell
the truth, Chirpy's request almost took his breath away. And while he
recovered himself he forgot to flash his light--a most unusual
oversight.

But Freddie was no person to disappoint a friend. Besides, he had just
said, "Why, certainly!"

Really, there was nothing for him to do but to say the same thing again.



VI

A PLAN GOES WRONG


Chirpy Cricket never fiddled faster than he did that night. Somehow he
had a notion that the faster he fiddled the more quickly the night would
pass. For Freddie Firefly had promised to loan Chirpy his light, because
Chirpy needed it when he saw Miss Christabel Cricket to her home beyond
the barnyard fence. Chirpy was going to see her safely to her door when
the night's concert was ended. And he could hardly wait until the time
came when he would flash that wonderful light in the eyes of all his
friends.

"I hope you won't go dancing across the meadow tonight," he remarked
anxiously to Freddie Firefly. "You might wander into the swamp and get
lost."

"Oh, there's no danger of that!" Freddie assured him.

"If you stumbled into the wet swamp you might put your light out," Chirpy
Cricket warned him.

But Freddie Firefly laughed and told him not to worry.

"I always enjoy at least one dance in the meadow each night," he
explained. "They're expecting me over there now. And I don't want to
disappoint them."

"No!" Chirpy answered. "And neither do you want to disappoint me. So
please don't fail to be on hand when the music's finished."

After telling Chirpy that he wouldn't fail him, Freddie Firefly flitted
away. But in spite of what he had said Chirpy Cricket couldn't help
feeling nervous and uneasy. And he fiddled so fast that the other
fiddlers kept complaining. They said he wasn't playing in time.

Chirpy Cricket was too well-mannered to contradict them. But he had his
own opinion, which he kept to himself. He thought his companions were out
of time. "Goodness!" he exclaimed under his breath. "I near heard such
slow fiddling in all my life!"

There was another way, too, in which Chirpy annoyed the others. He kept
asking them--first one and then another--what time it was. And of course
nobody wants to stop and look at his watch when he is fiddling.

At last one of his cousins told him, in answer to his question, that it
was time to stop talking and pay attention to the music.

After that Chirpy Cricket tried to be patient. But it was hard not to be
restless. And he kept leaping into the air, hoping to get a glimpse of
Freddie Firefly's twinkling light. For it seemed to him that Freddie
would never return from the meadow.

At last the fiddlers stopped playing, one after another; for the night
was going fast. The Cricket family always liked to be home before
daylight.

Chirpy had almost given up hope of seeing Freddie Firefly. But to his
great delight Freddie came skipping up just as Chirpy stood before Miss
Christabel Cricket, whom he expected to see to her home.

"I'm glad you've come!" Chirpy greeted him. "I'll take your light now.
And I'll return it to you to-morrow night."

"Oh! That would be too much trouble for you," Freddie Firefly said. "I'll
go right along with you and your young lady. And after I've lighted her
home I'll do the same thing for you."

"Oh! That would be too much trouble for you," Chirpy Cricket objected.
"Let me take the light, please!" He certainly didn't want Freddie Firefly
tagging along with Miss Christabel Cricket and himself.

Of course, Freddie Firefly _couldn't_ give Chirpy his light. It was just
as much a part of him as his head. And since Chirpy Cricket began to get
excited, and said again and again that the light had been promised him,
in the end Freddie had to explain everything.

It was a great disappointment to Chirpy Cricket. He had expected to have
wonderful fun, flashing Freddie Firefly's light.

But Miss Christabel Cricket did not seem to mind in the least.

"You oughtn't to blame Freddie Firefly for not loaning his light," she
said. "You know you wouldn't let him take your fiddle."

Well, Chirpy Cricket hadn't thought of that. And he had to admit that
what she said was true.

And just then the sun peeped over Blue Mountain. So everybody hurried
home alone, after all.



VII

JOHNNIE GREEN'S GUEST


There were enough night noises before Chirpy Cricket came to live in the
farmyard. What with Solomon Owl's hooting, his cousin Simon Screecher's
quavering call, and the musical Frog's family's concerts in Cedar Swamp,
it was a wonder that Johnnie Green ever managed to fall asleep. The
Katydids alone were almost enough to drive anybody frantic--if he let
himself listen to them--with their everlasting cry of _Katy did, Katy
did; she did, she did_.

Johnnie Green himself said he wished the Crickets had gone somewhere else
to spend the summer. At least, he thought they might play some other tune
besides _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_ over and over again. If they
would only fiddle "Yankee Doodle" now and then he said he wouldn't mind
lying awake a while to listen to it.

Perhaps Chirpy Cricket heard what Johnnie Green said. Maybe he wanted to
punish him. Anyhow, he crept into the farmhouse one evening and found his
way into Johnnie Green's chamber, where he hid in a gaping crack behind
the baseboard. And that very night, as soon as Johnnie Green put out his
light and jumped into bed, Chirpy Cricket began to fiddle for him.

Johnnie had been sleepy. But the moment Chirpy Cricket began fiddling
right there in his room he became wide awake. He had had no idea how
loudly one of the Cricket family could play his _cr-r-r-i!_ _cr-r-r-i!
cr-r-r-i!_ indoors. The high, shrill sound was piercing. It rang in
Johnnie's ears and drowned the muffled concert of the fields and swamp
which the light breeze bore through the window.

For a few minutes Johnnie lay still. And then he sat up in bed. "I'll
have to get up and find that fellow," he said. "If I don't, he'll keep me
awake."

The moment he stirred, the fiddling stopped short. Johnnie was glad of
that. And once more he laid his head upon his pillow. But in a few
moments that _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_ rang out again.

Then Johnnie Green tried several remedies. He shook the bed. He knocked
over a chair. He caught up a shoe and threw it toward a corner of the
room, whence the sound seemed to come. And then he threw the other shoe.

Every time Johnnie Green made a noise Chirpy Cricket stopped fiddling.
And if Johnnie had had enough shoes no doubt he could have kept Chirpy
from making any more music that night. But of course Johnnie couldn't
have slept any, if he had done that. Besides, he would have kept the
whole family awake, too. He thought of that after he had hurled the
second shoe. For his father called up the stairs and asked him what was
the matter.

"There's an old Cricket in my room!" Johnnie explained. "He's keeping me
awake."

"I should think you were keeping him awake," said Farmer Green. "Get up
and look for him if you must.... But don't let him bite you!"

"You wouldn't joke if this old Cricket was in your room," Johnnie
grumbled.

He did not grumble often. But he had had a long, hard day, swimming in
the mill-pond and climbing apple trees. And he wanted to go to sleep.

Johnnie Green thought it was no time to crack jokes.



VIII

PLEASING JOHNNIE GREEN


Johnnie Green knew that he could never find the Cricket in the dark. So
he crawled out of bed and lighted a candle, blinking a few moments in its
flickering flame.

From his hiding place in the crack of the baseboard, in a corner of
Johnnie Green's chamber, Chirpy Cricket saw the gleam of the candle. And
he wondered whether it might be a relation of Freddie Firefly. It seemed
to have a trick of moving about in a jerky fashion, as if it didn't know
where it was going and didn't greatly care, so long as it was on the
move.

Chirpy Cricket kept still as a mouse then. He soon saw that the bearer of
the bright light was quite unlike Freddie Firefly, in one way. He made a
tremendous racket, knocking over almost everything in the room.

In a few minutes a voice called up the stairway again. "Is the Cricket
chasing you?" it asked. It was Farmer Green, speaking to Johnnie.

"Don't tease me!" Johnnie Green cried. "Come up and help me find him!"

So Farmer Green climbed the stairs and looked into Johnnie's room and
laughed.

"Maybe I ought to have brought the old shotgun," he said. "I'd hate to
have a Cricket jump at me."

Johnnie managed to grin at that. He was so wide awake that he no longer
felt like grumbling.

"The trouble with this Cricket is that he won't jump," he told his
father. "I can't tell where he is, because he keeps still whenever I
move. But when the light's out and everything's quiet he makes a terrible
noise."

"That's a trick Crickets have," Farmer Green observed. "And I must say
that if I were a Cricket I'd act the same way."

Of course Chirpy Cricket heard everything that was said. And he couldn't
help thinking that Farmer Green was a very sensible person. "I dare say
he'd be a famous fiddler if he belonged to our family," Chirpy told
himself. And for a moment or two he was tempted to play a tune for Farmer
Green. But he thought better of the notion at once. He remembered that
Farmer Green had climbed the stairs to hunt for him. And Chirpy squeezed
himself further into the crack where he was hiding until he was so
huddled up that he couldn't have fiddled if he had wanted to.

Though they looked carefully, neither Johnnie nor his father could find
him. And at last they had to admit that it was useless to search any
longer.

"What shall I do?" Johnnie wailed. "As soon as I put out the light and
get into bed he'll begin chirping again."

"In such cases," Farmer Green answered wisely, "there's only one thing to
do."

"What's that?" Johnnie inquired hopefully.

"All you can do," said Farmer Green, "is to come downstairs and have
something to eat."

Now, that may seem a strange remedy. But somehow it just suited Johnnie
Green. He pattered barefooted down the stairs. And later, when he went to
bed again, and Chirpy Cricket began to chirp once more, all Johnnie Green
said was this:

"Sing away--little Tommy Tucker! You may not know it, but you sang for my
supper!"

And the next moment, Johnnie Green was sound asleep.



IX

AN INTERRUPTED NAP


Chirpy Cricket liked his home in Farmer Green's yard. During the long
summer days he thought it very cheerful to rest in his dark hole in the
ground. He liked the darkness of his home; he liked its warmth, too. For
in pleasant weather the sun beat down upon the straw-littered ground
above him and gave him plenty of heat, while on gray days the straw
blanket kept his house cosy. And it never occurred to Chirpy Cricket that
there was anything odd in having a blanket over his house instead of over
himself.

Nothing ever really disturbed Chirpy Cricket after he settled in the
farmyard. To be sure, he had a few frights at first. Now and then the
earth trembled in a terrible fashion. But that happened only when Johnnie
Green led old Ebenezer, or some other horse, to the watering-trough,
passing right over Chirpy's home. And Chirpy had soon learned that he was
in no danger.

Then at other times he heard an odd tearing and scratching, as if some
giant had discovered Chirpy's doorway and meant to dig him out of his
hiding place. By peeping slyly out he discovered at last the cause of
those fearful sounds. It was only the hens looking for something to
eat--a bit of grain amid the straw, or perhaps an angleworm. Chirpy never
left his house when he heard the hens at work. He had no wish to offer
himself as a tidbit. And he felt quite safe down in his home, for he was
quick to learn that the hens were no diggers. They could only scratch the
surface of the ground. So, in time, he used to laugh when he heard them.
And now and then he would even fiddle a bit, as if to say to them, "Here
I am! Come and get me if you can!"

The sound of fiddling, coming from beneath their feet, always puzzled the
hens. They would stop scratching and cock their heads on one side, to
listen. And they tried to look very knowing. But they were really the
most stupid of all the creatures in the farmyard. If they had only been
as wise as Farmer Green's cat they would have kept still and waited and
watched. And sooner or later they would have given Chirpy Cricket the
surprise of his life, when he came crawling out of his hole to get a few
blades of grass for his supper.

But even if the hens had thought of such a plan they never could have
kept their minds upon it long enough to carry it out. So perhaps it was
no wonder that Chirpy Cricket got the idea into his head that he was safe
from everybody. Sometimes, when he was dozing, even the footsteps of old
Ebenezer failed to rouse him.

But there came a day when Chirpy Cricket awoke with a great start.
Something had touched his long feelers. Something had come right down
into his hole and was prodding him.

He thought it must be a hen. And he did not laugh. No! Nor did he
fiddle!



X

CAUGHT!


Whatever or whoever it was that had entered Chirpy Cricket's home--the
hole in the ground near Farmer Green's barn--it caused him a terrible
fright. It kept poking him in a most alarming fashion. Chirpy couldn't
move away from it, for his home was only big enough for himself alone.
And since he didn't care to share it with another, he soon made up his
mind that there was only one thing for him to do. He would quit his house
for the time being, with the hope of finding it empty later. Indeed
Chirpy Cricket thought he would be lucky to escape in safety. So he
scrambled up into the daylight, to be greeted with a shout and a pounce,
both at the same time. And Chirpy Cricket saw, too late, that it was a
creature much bigger than a hen that had captured him. It was Johnnie
Green!

Of course Johnnie himself had not entered Chirpy's underground home. What
he had done was merely to run a straw into the hole where Chirpy lived
and prod him with it until he came out.

"Aha!" said Johnnie Green as he looked at his prisoner, whom he held
gingerly between a finger and a thumb. "Are you the rascal that keeps me
awake at night with your everlasting noise?"

Chirpy Cricket never said a word.

"You make racket enough every night," Johnnie told him. "Can't you answer
now when you're spoken to?"

Still Chirpy Cricket made no reply. He waved his feelers frantically and
tried to jump out of Johnnie Green's grasp. But no matter how fast he
moved his six legs, he couldn't get away.

"You don't seem to like me," said his captor finally. "You don't act as
if you wanted to play with me.... What will you do for me if I let you
go?"

But not a word did Chirpy Cricket say--not one single word!

"You're a queer one," Johnnie Green told him. "You might fiddle for me,
at least--though I must say I don't care for the tune you always play. I
can get better music out of a cornstalk fiddle than I've ever heard from
you or any of your family."

Then, very carefully, Johnnie set Chirpy Cricket on the ground, with both
his hands cupped closely over him, so he couldn't jump away.

"Now, fiddle!" Johnnie Green cried. "Fiddle just once and I'll let you
go."

Though Johnnie Green waited patiently for what seemed to him a long time,
he heard nothing that sounded the least bit like fiddling. So at last he
peeped between two fingers to see what the fiddler was doing. But Johnnie
Green couldn't see him. Little by little he lifted his hands. And to his
great surprise there was nothing under them but grass--and beneath the
grass a crack in the earth.

"Well! You're a sly one!" Johnnie Green exclaimed. "You've crawled into
that crack. And you may stay there, too, for all I care." Johnnie jumped
to his feet and moved away. And not until he had been gone some time did
Chirpy Cricket make a sound. Then he played a few notes on his fiddle,
just to see that it hadn't been harmed.



XI

A QUEER, NEW COUSIN


Chirpy Cricket was so fond of fiddling that sometimes he was the last of
all the big Cricket family to stop making music and go home to bed. Now
and then he lingered so long above the ground that the dawn caught him
before he crept into his hole in the ground, beneath the straw. And one
morning it was getting so light before he had played enough to suit him
that he crawled into a crack in Farmer Green's garden. It looked like a
comfortable place to spend the day. And he thought it would be foolish
for him to do much travelling at that hour, because there was no telling
when an early bird might spy--and pounce upon--him.

He found his retreat quite to his liking. Nothing had happened to disturb
his rest. And if he had only had time to carry a few blades of grass into
the crack, to eat between naps, Chirpy would have had nothing to wish
for.

Late in the afternoon, however, a most unusual thing took place. Chirpy
Cricket noticed a sound as of some one digging. It grew louder and louder
as he listened. And it was not in the least like the scratching of a hen,
looking for grubs and worms. This noise was deep down in the ground and
like nothing Chirpy had ever heard.

He wished that he had not allowed himself to become so fond of fiddling.
If he had cared less for it, he would have gone home in good season. But
there he was in a crack in the garden! And he didn't dare leave it
because he had heard that the garden was a famous place for birds.

Chirpy Cricket was frightened. And when at last the loose earth near him
began to quiver and even to crumble he was so scared that he didn't know
which way to move. The next instant a strange looking person stood before
him. And for a few moments neither one of them said a word.

The newcomer was a big fellow, very long and with enormous legs. His
front legs especially were short and powerful, with huge feet at the end
of them. And yet, odd as the stranger was, Chirpy could not help noticing
that somehow he had a look like the Cricket family.

"Well," said the stranger at last, "you seem surprised. Perhaps you
weren't expecting callers."

"No, I wasn't," Chirpy Cricket answered in a voice that was faint from
the fright he had had.

"But you're glad to see me, I hope," the stranger went on. "You know I'm
related to you. You know I'm a sort of cousin of yours."

"Is that so?" Chirpy Cricket cried. "I did think for a moment that there
was a slight family resemblance. But the longer I look at you the queerer
you seem. May I ask your name?"

"I'm Mr. Mole Cricket," said the stranger. "And I don't need to inquire
who you are. You're one of the well-known Field Cricket family."



XII

AN UNDERGROUND CHAT


Chirpy Cricket was glad of one thing. Mr. Mole Cricket _talked_ quite
pleasantly, for all he looked so frightful. When he dug his way through
the dirt in Farmer Green's garden and broke into the crack where Chirpy
was hiding he had given Chirpy a terrible start.

"If you're a cousin of mine--as you say--it's strange that I've never
happened to meet you before," Chirpy told the newcomer.

"Not at all! Not at all!" Mr. Mole Cricket said. "I spend all my time
underground. I've never been up in the open."

"Don't you go out at night?" Chirpy asked him.

"Never!" Mr. Mole Cricket declared. "I've lived my whole life in the
dirt. And I like it too well to leave it."

Chirpy Cricket thought his cousin was the queerest person he had ever
met.

"How do you get anything to eat?" he inquired.

Mr. Mole Cricket seemed to consider that an odd question.

"Bless you!" he exclaimed. "There's everything to eat in the
ground--everything anybody could possibly want. Wherever I tunnel I find
tender roots. You know Farmer Green grows fine vegetables here. Indeed
that's one reason I live under his garden."

"If that's one reason, what's another?" Chirpy Cricket asked him. For
Chirpy couldn't help being curious about this new-found cousin of his,
who had such strange ways and who was even stranger to look upon.

He was obliging enough--was Mr. Mole Cricket. He was quite willing to
answer any and all questions. It may be that he was glad of the chance to
talk with somebody. Certainly it seemed to Chirpy Cricket that his cousin
led a very lonely life. He explained to Chirpy that it was easy to dig in
the garden, because its soil was loose. The ploughing in the spring, and
the harrowing, as well as the hoeing that Farmer Green's hired man did
during the summer, kept the earth in fine condition for tunnelling. Of
course, living beneath the surface as he did, Mr. Mole Cricket had no way
of knowing why the garden soil was so nicely stirred up. He only knew
that it was so. And that was quite enough for him.

Chirpy Cricket said that it was all very interesting to hear about. But
he knew that he shouldn't care to follow Mr. Mole Cricket's manner of
living. "I love to fiddle," he said. "I simply must go abroad every
pleasant night and make music."

"But you don't need to leave the dirt to fiddle!" Mr. Mole Cricket
exclaimed. "I'm musical too. I often fiddle down in my house. I don't
know a better way of passing the time, when a person's not digging or
eating."

"Won't you play for me now?" Chirpy Cricket asked him.

Mr. Mole Cricket was more than willing to oblige. He began to fiddle at
once. And the tune he played was as strange as he was. Chirpy Cricket did
not like it at all. It seemed to him very mournful, a sort of sad, sad
air, as if Mr. Mole Cricket were bewailing his dismal life beneath the
garden.

But of course Chirpy was too polite to tell that to his cousin. And when
Mr. Mole Cricket asked him how he liked the tune, Chirpy replied that it
was very, very interesting.



XIII

A QUESTION OF FEET


"Are you sure you're a cousin of mine?" Chirpy Cricket inquired of Mr.
Mole Cricket. "Don't you think that perhaps you are mistaken? I'm almost
certain you are."

"No!" said Mr. Mole Cricket. "I can't be wrong. Why do you ask me such a
question?"

"Your forefeet"--Chirpy told him--"your forefeet are so big! I've always
understood that all our family had small ones."

Mr. Mole Cricket smiled.

"Don't let the size of my feet trouble you!" he replied. "I couldn't be a
Mole Cricket if my feet were like yours. You see, I use my forefeet for
digging. And if they weren't big and strong I never could burrow in this
garden, nor anywhere else."

Still Chirpy Cricket had his doubts.

"I'm inclined to believe," he continued, "that you're related to
Grandfather Mole, and not to me. For your feet are very much like his."

"Oh, no!" Mr. Mole Cricket cried. "And for pity's sake don't ever let
Grandfather Mole hear you say that! He'd be so angry that he'd eat me, as
likely as not. You see, he objects to my name. He says I have no right to
call myself Mr. Mole Cricket. But that's the name my family has always
had. And I can't very well change it."

The poor fellow acted so alarmed that Chirpy Cricket hastened to promise
him that he would never mention his likeness to Grandfather Mole again.

"Very well!" said Mr. Mole Cricket. "That's kind of you, I'm sure. And
now, if you want to make me quite happy, there's one more thing to which
you will agree."

"What's that?" Chirpy Cricket asked. He felt sorry for Mr. Mole Cricket,
who had never known the pleasure of fiddling with a thousand other
musicians under the stars on a warm summer night. "If there is anything I
can do to make you happy, just tell me!"

"Then call me 'Cousin'!" Mr. Mole Cricket begged him.

Chirpy Cricket cast one glance at Mr. Mole Cricket's huge feet. In spite
of everything their owner had told him, Chirpy still found it difficult
to believe that Mr. Mole Cricket could be even a very distant relation.

"I'll do it!" he said at last. "If it will make you any happier I'll call
you 'Cousin'--though you can't be any nearer than a hundred times
removed."

It was easy to see that Mr. Mole Cricket was delighted.

"Thank you! Thank you!" he exclaimed. "But permit me to correct you. I'm
your cousin a good many thousand times removed. But that's no reason why
we shouldn't be the best of friends. And now," he added, "won't you come
home with me? I'd like you to meet my wife."

While thanking him for the invitation, Chirpy Cricket couldn't help
wondering whether Mr. Mole Cricket's wife had as big feet as her
husband.



XIV

CHIRPY IS CAREFUL


"Do you live near-by?" Chirpy Cricket inquired of Mr. Mole Cricket, who
had just invited him to his home to meet his wife.

"My home is not very far from here," his new cousin said. "We'll go back
through this tunnel I've been making. The other end of it opens into my
dwelling, some distance below the surface of the garden. Follow me and
you'll have no trouble finding it."

But somehow Chirpy Cricket did not quite like the idea of travelling with
the stranger, cousin though he might be, under Farmer Green's garden.
"Not to-day!" he said politely. "I haven't had anything to eat since last
night. And I don't feel like taking a journey."

"We'll snatch a bite on the way to my house," Mr. Mole Cricket suggested
cheerfully. "I'll dig out a few juicy roots for you. Which kind do you
like best--beet, turnip or carrot?"

"I don't like any of them," Chirpy Cricket confessed.

"You don't!" his cousin cried, as if he were astonished to hear that.
"What do you live on, then?"

"Grass!" Chirpy answered.

"I've never heard of it," said Mr. Mole Cricket. "And I must say you have
queer tastes--even though you are my own cousin."

Chirpy Cricket saw that he and Mr. Mole Cricket were bound to have
trouble if they saw too much of each other. So he hinted--in a delicate
way--that Mr. Mole Cricket's wife must be wondering where he was.

Thereupon that gentleman started up hurriedly and made for his tunnel.

"I'll see you again sometime," he said hastily over his shoulder. And in
another instant he was gone.

They never met again. Chirpy Cricket took great pains never to spend
another day in hiding in Farmer Green's garden. He was afraid there might
be trouble if he saw more of his cousin. And he couldn't forget those
powerful forelegs and enormous feet of Mr. Mole Cricket! They looked very
dangerous.

The longer Chirpy pondered over his brief meeting with Mr. Mole Cricket,
the more firmly he made up his mind that he had been in great danger and
that he had been lucky to escape alive. Everybody knew that Grandfather
Mole was a terrible-tempered person when aroused. He would rush at
anybody, big or little. Perhaps that was because he couldn't see what
sized person he was attacking. For Grandfather Mole was blind. But he
never stopped to inquire of anybody whether he was tall or short, thick
or thin. He just went ahead without asking.

"I'm glad," thought Chirpy, "that I didn't go home with Mr. Mole Cricket.
If his wife's feet are anything like his they'd be a fearful pair to
quarrel with. And even if they hadn't quarrelled with me, they might have
had trouble between themselves. And if I happened to get in their way it
would certainly have gone hard with me."

Harmless Mr. Mole Cricket never knew what a monster his cousin Chirpy
Cricket believed him to be. When he reached home he told his wife that he
had met a queer little cousin who spent much of his time above ground and
lived on grass.

But Mrs. Mole Cricket wouldn't believe him. She told him not to be silly.
She even said that there wasn't any such thing as grass. And she asked
him how anybody could live on it when there wasn't any anywhere.

Naturally, she wouldn't have talked like that if she had ever seen much
of the world. But she had spent her whole life down in the dirt, beneath
Farmer Green's garden.



XV

TOMMY TREE CRICKET


After meeting that odd Mr. Mole Cricket, who claimed to be his cousin,
Chirpy Cricket tried to find out more about him from his nearer
relations. But there wasn't one that had ever seen or heard of such a
person. One night Chirpy even travelled quite a distance to call on Tommy
Tree Cricket, with the hope that perhaps Tommy might be able to tell him
something.

Chirpy found Tommy Tree Cricket in the tangle of raspberry bushes beyond
the garden. It was not hard to tell where he was, because he was a famous
fiddler. He played a tune that was different from Chirpy's _cr-r-r-i!
cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_ Tommy Tree Cricket fiddled _re-teat! re-teat!
re-teat!_ And many considered him a much finer musician than Chirpy
himself. He was small and pale. Beside Chirpy Cricket, who was all but
black, Tommy Tree Cricket looked decidedly delicate. But he could fiddle
all night without getting tired.

"I've come all the way from the yard to have a chat with you!" Chirpy
called to his cousin Tommy.

"Come up and have a seat!" said Tommy Tree Cricket.

"I can find one here, thank you!" Chirpy answered.

"Oh! Don't sit on the damp ground!" Tommy cried. "That's a dangerous
thing to do."

Chirpy Cricket smiled to himself. In a way Tommy Tree Cricket was queer.
He always clung to trees and shrubs, claiming that it was much more
healthful to live off the ground. But he was so pale that Chirpy Cricket
was sure he was mistaken.

"The ground's good enough for me," Chirpy told his cousin.

"Well, we won't quarrel about that tonight," said Tommy Tree Cricket.
"Sit there, if you will. And when I've finished playing this tune we'll
have a talk. I only hope you won't catch cold while you're waiting down
there."

"Can't you stop fiddling long enough to talk with me now?" Chirpy asked
him. "I've come here to ask you whether you ever saw a cousin of ours
called Mr. Mole Cricket."

"_Re-teat! re-teat! re-teat!_" Tommy Tree Cricket was already fiddling
away as if it were the last night of the summer. He was making so much
shrill music that he couldn't hear a word Chirpy said. The more Chirpy
tried to attract his attention the harder he played, rolling his eyes in
every direction--except that of his caller.

Several times Chirpy Cricket leaped into the air, hoping that Tommy Tree
Cricket would see that he had something important to say. But Tommy paid
not the slightest heed to him.

At last Chirpy decided that he might as well do a little fiddling
himself, to pass the time away. So he began his _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!
cr-r-r-i!_ And then Tommy noticed him immediately.

"You're playing the wrong tune!" he cried. "It's _re-teat! re-teat!
re-teat!_"

Chirpy Cricket thought that his cousin's face was slightly darker, as if
a flush of annoyance had come over it. He certainly didn't want to
quarrel with Tommy Tree Cricket. So he said to him, very mildly, "I fear
you do not like my playing."

"I can't say that I do," said Tommy. "It makes me think of that creaking
pump at the farmhouse."

"And of what"--Chirpy Cricket stammered--"of what, pray, does your own
fiddling remind you?"

"Ah!" said Tommy. "My own music is like nothing in the world except the
sound of a shimmering moonbeam."

There is no doubt that Tommy Tree Cricket thought very well of his own
fiddling.



XVI

A LONG WAIT


Chirpy cricket was so good-natured that he wouldn't quarrel with his
cousin, Tommy Tree Cricket. Although Tommy had said bluntly that Chirpy's
fiddling reminded him of Farmer Green's creaking pump, Chirpy made no
disagreeable answer. He did not want to hurt his pale cousin's feelings.

After making his rude remark Tommy Tree Cricket began his _re-teat!
re-teat! re-teat!_ once more. He shuffled his wings together at a faster
rate than ever, as if he had to furnish all the music for the night. As
before, he seemed to have forgotten all about his caller; for Chirpy
still waited beneath the raspberry bush where Tommy Tree Cricket was
fiddling.

But if Tommy paid no heed to Chirpy, there was a reason why. Near Tommy
sat a pale young miss of his own sort, who listened with great enjoyment
to his playing. Or at least she acted as if she thought it the most
beautiful music in the whole world.

Tommy Tree Cricket was not so intent upon his fiddling that he couldn't
roll his eyes towards his fair listener. And Chirpy was not slow to
understand that it was for her that Tommy was playing his _re-teat!
re-teat! re-teat!_

"I'll wait here until he rests," Chirpy said to himself. "Then I'll ask
him again what he knows about Mr. Mole Cricket."

Well, Chirpy waited and waited. But it seemed to him that as the night
lengthened Tommy Tree Cricket fiddled all the faster. And if the weather
hadn't turned colder along toward morning probably he wouldn't have had a
chance to speak to Tommy again.

Anyhow, a cool wind began to whip around the side of Blue Mountain and
sweep through Pleasant Valley. And the moment it struck Tommy Tree
Cricket he began to play more slowly. Little by little a longer pause
crept between his _re-teats_. And at last the pale miss beside him cried,
"I hope you're not going to stop your beautiful fiddling!"

"I fear I'll have to," Tommy told her with a sigh. "I'm beginning to feel
a bit stiff, with this north wind blowing on me."

This was Chirpy Cricket's chance.

"Please!" he called. "Will you listen to me a moment?"

"What! Have you come back again?" Tommy Tree Cricket sang out.

"No! I've been here all the time," Chirpy explained. "I've been waiting
for hours to have a talk with you."

"Very well!" Tommy answered. "It's too cold for me to fiddle any more. So
talk away! And you'd better be quick about it, for the night's almost
gone."

But somehow Chirpy Cricket felt that his chat could wait a little longer.
If the pale young person clinging to the raspberry bush near Tommy Tree
Cricket loved music, he thought it was a pity to disappoint her.

"You may feel too cold to fiddle; but I don't!" Chirpy said. "I'm quite
warm down here on the ground. This little hollow where I'm sitting is
sheltered from the wind. So I'll fiddle for your friend." As he spoke he
began to play.

Looks as of great pain came over the pale faces of his two listeners in
the raspberry bush. And they shuddered so violently that they had to
cling tightly to their seats to keep from falling.

"My friend thanks you. But she says she doesn't care for your fiddling,"
Tommy Tree Cricket called down to Chirpy. "She says it's too squeaky."

Chirpy Cricket was fiddling so hard by that time that he never heard a
word. And when he stopped at last, to rest a bit, a voice cried out,
"That's fine! Won't you play some more?"

Chirpy Cricket was pleased. He thought, of course, that it was Tommy's
friend speaking to him. But when he looked up he couldn't see her
anywhere--nor her companion either.

They had both disappeared. And it was already gray in the east.



XVII

SITTING ON A LILY-PAD


Though Chirpy Cricket looked all around with great care, he couldn't
discover who had spoken to him. A voice from somewhere had called out
that his music was fine and asked him if he wouldn't play some more.

Whoever the owner of the voice might be, it was plain that he liked
music. So without knowing for whom he was playing, Chirpy began to fiddle
again. And when he stopped the same voice cried, "Thank you very much!"

Now, the duck-pond was near-by. And at first Chirpy hadn't thought of
looking there for his listener. But the second time he heard the voice he
guessed that it came from the pond. So Chirpy leaped to the water's edge;
and there, sitting on a lily-pad, was the tiniest Frog he had ever seen.
He seemed no bigger than Chirpy himself.

"How do you do!" Chirpy said to him. "Was it you that spoke to me?"

"Yes!" the stranger said. "I've been enjoying your music. And I'm glad to
meet you. It's time we knew each other, living as we do in the same
neighborhood. My name is Mr. Cricket Frog. And may I inquire what yours
is?"

"I'm called Chirpy Cricket," said the fiddler on the bank. "Is it
possible--do you think--that we are cousins?"

"No!" said Mr. Cricket Frog. "No! I belong to a branch of the well-known
Tree Frog family. But somehow I've never cared to live in trees. Indeed,
I've never climbed a tree in all my life."

"You're a sensible person!" Chirpy Cricket cried. He did not know that
the reason why Mr. Cricket Frog stayed on the ground was because his feet
were not suited to climbing trees. He couldn't have got up a tree if he
had tried. "Aren't you afraid of falling off that lily-pad into the
water?" Chirpy asked his new friend. "It seems to me you haven't picked
out a safe place at all."

He had scarcely finished speaking when he had a great fright. For Mr.
Cricket Frog did not answer him. Instead he leaped suddenly into the air.
And Chirpy Cricket feared that he would fall into the water and be
drowned. But when Mr. Cricket Frog came down again he landed squarely
upon another lily-pad.

"I caught him," he said pleasantly.

Chirpy Cricket had no idea what he was talking about.

"Whom did you catch?" he asked.

"The fly!" Mr. Cricket Frog replied.

"Don't you think you took a great risk, leaping above the water like
that?" Chirpy inquired. "Aren't you worried for fear you'll fall into the
pond some day, if you jump for flies in that careless fashion?"

Mr. Cricket Frog tried not to smile.

"Bless you!" he exclaimed. "I spend half my time in the water. Please
don't think I'm boasting when I say I'm a fine swimmer. You'll understand
why when you look at my feet." And he held up a foot so that Chirpy
Cricket might see it.

Chirpy noticed that there were webs between Mr. Cricket Frog's toes. And
everybody knows that webbed feet are the best for swimming.

Mr. Cricket Frog wanted to be agreeable. "Would you like to see me swim?"
he asked.

"Yes, thank you!" Chirpy replied.

So Mr. Cricket Frog leaped nimbly into the water and began to swim among
the lily-pads while Chirpy watched him and admired his skill.

All at once Chirpy heard a splash. And he was just about to ask Mr.
Cricket Frog what it could be, when he noticed something queer about his
new friend. He was no longer swimming. He was floating, motionless, upon
the water. Not by a single movement of any kind did he show that he was
alive.



XVIII

MR. CRICKET FROG'S TRICK


"What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Chirpy Cricket called to Mr. Cricket
Frog from the bank of the duck-pond. Ever since a splash near-by had
interrupted their talk, Mr. Cricket Frog had not swum a single stroke. He
was floating, motionless, upon the surface of the water. And he made no
reply whatever to Chirpy's questions. He acted exactly as if he had not
heard them. The fitful breeze caught at Mr. Cricket Frog's limp form and
wafted it about.

Chirpy Cricket couldn't help being alarmed. And yet he almost thought,
for a moment, that he saw Mr. Cricket Frog's eyes rolling in his
direction, as he stood on the bank of the pond. If Mr. Cricket Frog was
in trouble, Chirpy knew of no way to help him. And after a time he made
up his mind that Mr. Cricket Frog was beyond anybody's help. Chirpy was
about to go back to the farmyard when Mr. Cricket Frog came suddenly to
life.

"Meet me here to-morrow!" he called. Then he dived to the bottom of the
water. And Chirpy Cricket went home, thinking that it was all very
queer.

"What happened to you yesterday?" Chirpy asked Mr. Cricket Frog, when he
came back to the duck-pond the following day and found that spry little
gentleman waiting for him on a lily-pad. "Were you ill?"

"Oh, no!" Mr. Cricket Frog answered. "When I heard a splash behind me I
didn't know who made it. So I played dead for a while. And after waiting
until I felt somewhat safer, I went down to the bottom of the pond and
hid in the mud. I've found that it's always wise to attract as little
attention as possible when I don't know who's lurking about.... I hope
you didn't think I was rude," he added.

"No!" Chirpy told him. "But I've been upset ever since I saw you. I
haven't had the heart to fiddle."

"Dear me!" Mr. Cricket Frog cried. "I must do something to cheer you up.
I'll sing you a song!" Then Mr. Cricket Frog puffed out his yellow throat
and began to sing. And he gave Chirpy Cricket a great surprise. For his
singing was so like Chirpy's fiddling that Chirpy thought for a moment he
was making the sound himself.

But there was one marked difference. Mr. Cricket Frog's time was not like
his. It was not regular. Mr. Cricket Frog began to sing somewhat slowly
and gradually sang faster and faster. After he had sung about thirty
notes he would pause to get his breath. And then he would begin again,
exactly as before.

Mr. Cricket Frog hadn't sung long before Chirpy's spirits began to rise.
Indeed, he soon felt so cheerful that he began to fiddle. And between the
two they made such a chirping that an old drake swam across the duck-pond
to see what was going on.

Of course, his curiosity put an end to the concert. Mr. Cricket Frog saw
him coming. And this time he didn't stop to play dead. He sank in a great
hurry to the bottom of the pond.

Chirpy Cricket wondered why his friend chose to stay in a place where
there were so many interruptions. "I should think," he said to himself,
"Mr. Cricket Frog would rather live in a hole in the ground, as I do....
I must ask him, when I see him again, why he doesn't move to the
farmyard."

Mr. Cricket Frog was very polite, later, when Chirpy spoke to him about
moving. But he explained that he was too fond of swimming to do that. And
besides, he thought his voice sounded better on water than it did on
land.



XIX

IT WASN'T THUNDER


Quite often, during the nightly concerts in which Chirpy Cricket took
part, he had noticed an odd cry, _Peent! Peent!_ which seemed to come
from the woods. And sometimes there followed from the same direction a
hollow, booming sound, as if somebody were amusing himself by blowing
across the bung-hole of an empty barrel.

Chirpy Cricket had a great curiosity to know who made those queer noises.
He asked everybody he met about them. And at last Kiddie Katydid told him
that it was Mr. Nighthawk that he had heard.

"He seems to think he's a musician," said Chirpy Cricket. "But I must say
I don't care much for his music. He's not what you might call a steady
player. And his notes are not shrill enough for my liking. Perhaps he
lacks training. I'd be glad to take him in hand and see what I could do
with him. Tell me! Does he ever visit our neighborhood?"

"Not often!" said Kiddie Katydid. "I met him here once. And that was
enough for me. I never felt more uncomfortable in all my life." He
shuddered as he spoke and looked over his shoulder.

Somehow Chirpy Cricket did not share Kiddie Katydid's uneasiness. The
more he thought about Mr. Nighthawk the more he wanted to meet him.

"If you ever see Mr. Nighthawk again I wish you'd tell him I want to talk
with him," Chirpy said.

"I'll do so," Kiddie Katydid promised. "And now let me give you a bit of
advice. When you meet Mr. Nighthawk, keep perfectly still. He's a hungry
fellow, always on the look-out for somebody to eat. But he has one
peculiar habit: he won't grab you unless you're moving through the air.
He always takes his food on the wing."

Chirpy thanked his friend Kiddie Katydid for this valuable bit of news.
And he said he'd be sure to remember it.

"Well," Kiddie Katydid observed, "if you forget it when you meet Mr.
Nighthawk you'll forget it only once. For he'll grab you quick as a
flash."

Chirpy Cricket pondered a good deal over the talk he had with Kiddie
Katydid. It was clear that Mr. Nighthawk was a dangerous person.
"Perhaps"--Chirpy thought--"perhaps if I could get him to take a greater
interest in his music he wouldn't be so ferocious. Yes! I feel sure that
if I could only persuade him to practice that booming sound it would give
Mr. Nighthawk something pleasant to think of. Who knows but that he might
become as gentle as I am?"

Chirpy Cricket liked that notion so much that he thought of little else.
He even began to consider making a journey to the woods where Mr.
Nighthawk lived, in order to meet that gentleman and offer to train him
to be a better musician. And at last Chirpy had even decided to go--as
soon as the moon should be full. He spent much of his time listening for
Mr. Nighthawk's _Peent! Peent!_ which now and then came faintly across
the meadow, and the dull, muffled _boom_ that often followed.

While Chirpy waited for the moon to grow full, one night an odd thing
happened. The stars twinkled overhead. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.
Yet all at once a loud _boom_ startled Chirpy Cricket and made him leap
suddenly towards home.

"Goodness!" he cried to Kiddie Katydid, who happened to be near him. "Did
you hear the thunder?"

"That wasn't thunder," Kiddie said. "And you'd better not jump like that
again. Mr. Nighthawk is here. He made that sound himself."



XX

BOUND TO BE DIFFERENT


Nothing ever surprised Chirpy Cricket more than what Kiddie Katydid told
him. He had thought it was thunder that he had just heard. But it was Mr.
Nighthawk, making that odd, booming sound of his. It was ever so much
louder than Chirpy had supposed it could be. He had never heard it so
near before.

For a moment Chirpy thought that perhaps Kiddie Katydid didn't know what
he was talking about. But no! There was Mr. Nighthawk's well-known call,
_Peent! Peent!_ There was no denying that it was his voice. He always
talked through his nose--or so it sounded. And one couldn't mistake it.

Chirpy Cricket began to think that after all he would rather not have a
talk with Mr. Nighthawk. He certainly sounded terrible!

Meanwhile Mr. Nighthawk alighted in a tree right over Chirpy's head, and
settled himself lengthwise along a limb. He was, indeed, an odd person.
He liked to be different from other folk. And just because other birds
sat crosswise on a perch, Mr. Nighthawk had to sit in exactly the
opposite fashion. No doubt if he could have, he would have hung
underneath the limb by his heels, like Benjamin Bat. Only he would have
wanted to hang by his nose instead of his heels, in order to be
different.

"Has anybody seen Chirpy Cricket?" Mr. Nighthawk sang out.

"He's on the ground, under that tree you're in," Kiddie Katydid informed
him. Kiddie never moved as he spoke, but clung closely to a twig in the
bush where he was hiding. Being green himself, he hardly thought that Mr.
Nighthawk would be able to discover him amongst shrubbery of the same
color.

Chirpy Cricket wished that Kiddie Katydid hadn't replied to Mr. Nighthawk
at all. But how could Kiddie know that Chirpy had changed his mind? And
now Mr. Nighthawk spoke to Chirpy.

"I can't see you very well, Mr. Cricket," he said. "Won't you leap into
the air a few times, so I can get a good look at you? I've heard that
you've been wanting to meet me. And I've come all the way from the woods
just to please you."

Luckily Chirpy Cricket did not forget Kiddie Katydid's advice. Kiddie had
explained to him how Mr. Nighthawk caught his meals on the wing.

"You'll have to excuse me," Chirpy told Mr. Nighthawk. "I'd rather not do
any jumping for you. That wasn't why I wanted to meet you."

"Ha!" said Mr. Nighthawk. "Then why--pray--did you wish to see me?"

"I thought"--Chirpy Cricket replied--"I thought that perhaps you'd like
me to help you with your music. I've often heard your booming at a
distance. And it has seemed to me that you have the making of a good
musician, if you have a good teacher."

Mr. Nighthawk sniffed. It must be remembered that he was not very
gentlemanly.

"I've had plenty of training," he said. "I didn't come all the way from
the woods to be told that I don't know my own business. I practice every
night. And I flatter myself that I'm a perfect performer."

"Then," said Chirpy Cricket, "perhaps you need a new fiddle. For there's
no doubt that your booming would sound much better if it were shriller."

Mr. Nighthawk gave a rude laugh.

"I don't make that sound with a fiddle," he sneered. "Don't you know a
wind instrument when you hear it?"



XXI

MR. NIGHTHAWK EXPLAINS


Mr. Nighthawk appeared to think it a great joke on Chirpy Cricket,
because Chirpy had thought he played the fiddle. He laughed in a most
disagreeable fashion. And he kept repeating that people who didn't know a
wind instrument when they heard it couldn't know much about music.

As for Chirpy, he didn't know just what to say. But at last he managed to
stammer that he hoped he hadn't offended Mr. Nighthawk.

"Not at all!" Mr. Nighthawk told him. "This is the funniest thing I've
heard for a long time. It was worth coming all the way from the woods to
enjoy a laugh over it."

Of course it was very rude for Mr. Nighthawk to speak in such a way. But
he was never polite to any of the smaller field-people, unless he
happened to be coaxing them to jump, so that he might grab them when they
were in the air. You may be sure he was as meek as he could be if he
happened to meet Solomon Owl. But at that moment Solomon was far off in
the hemlock woods. Only a short time before Mr. Nighthawk had heard his
rolling call in the distance. So he felt quite safe in bullying so gentle
a creature as Chirpy Cricket.

Thinking that he ought to be polite to his caller, rude as he was, Chirpy
asked Mr. Nighthawk if he wouldn't kindly play something.

"I don't care if I do," said Mr. Nighthawk--meaning that he _did_ care,
and that he _would_ play something. But it was not because he wanted to
oblige anybody. He was proud of his booming. And he was only too glad of
a chance to show Chirpy Cricket how loud he could make it sound.

"Stay right there in that tree, if you will!" Chirpy said. "I won't move.
I'll sit here and listen."

"Ha, ha!" Mr. Nighthawk laughed. "I _knew_ you didn't know anything about
wind instruments. When I make that booming sound I'm always on the wing.
I'm going to take a flight now. And when I come back you'll hear a noise
that is a noise--and not a squeaky chirp."

Then Mr. Nighthawk left his perch and climbed up into the sky. And when
he had risen high enough to suit him he dropped like a stone. It seemed
to Chirpy Cricket that he had never heard anything so loud as the _boom_
that broke not far above his head soon afterward. At the very moment when
it looked as if Mr. Nighthawk must dash himself to pieces upon the
ground, right where Chirpy Cricket crouched and trembled, he had spread
his wings and checked his fall. It was the air, rushing through his
wing-feathers with great force, that made the queer, hollow sound. That
was why Mr. Nighthawk claimed that he made the booming on a wind
instrument.

"There!" he said, when he had settled himself in the tree once more. "If
you think you can teach me to perform better, just try that trick
yourself!"

But Chirpy Cricket said that he was sure Mr. Nighthawk's performance
couldn't be bettered by anybody. And he remarked that the noise reminded
him of a high wind coming on top of a thunder storm.

That pleased Mr. Nighthawk.

"It's the greatest praise I've ever had!" he declared. And before Chirpy
Cricket knew what had happened, Mr. Nighthawk had flown away.

Chirpy often wondered why he left so suddenly. The truth was that Mr.
Nighthawk had hurried back to the woods to tell his wife what Chirpy
Cricket had said to him. And ever afterward he was fond of repeating
Chirpy's remark, in a boasting way, until his neighbors were heartily
tired of hearing it.



XXII

HARMLESS MR. MEADOW MOUSE


One night when Chirpy Cricket was fiddling his prettiest, not far from
the fence between the farmyard and the meadow, he had a queer feeling, as
if somebody were gazing at him. And glancing up quickly, he saw that a
plump person sat on a fence-rail, busily engaged in staring at him.

"How-dy do!" Chirpy Cricket piped; for the fat, four-legged person looked
both cheerful and harmless. "I take it you're fond of music."

The stranger, whose name was Mr. Meadow Mouse, smiled. "I won't dispute
your statement," he said.

"Perhaps you play some instrument yourself," Chirpy observed.

But Mr. Meadow Mouse shook his head.

"No!" he replied. "No! To tell the truth, I haven't much time for that
sort of thing. Besides, it seems to me somewhat dangerous. I was
wondering, while I watched you, whether you weren't likely to fiddle
yourself into bits--you were working so hard."

Chirpy Cricket assured him that there wasn't the least danger.

"All my family are famous fiddlers," he said. "And I've never heard of
such an accident happening to any of them."

Mr. Meadow Mouse appeared to be slightly disappointed.

"I thought," he said, "I could pick up the pieces for you, in case you
fell apart."

Dark as he was, Chirpy Cricket almost turned pale.

"You--you weren't intending to--to swallow the pieces, were you?" he
stammered.

"Dear me! No!" Mr. Meadow Mouse gasped. "I'm what's known as a
vegetarian."

Well, when he heard that, Chirpy Cricket made ready to jump out of the
stranger's way. He didn't know what a vegetarian was; but it sounded
terrible to him.

Mr. Meadow Mouse must have guessed that Chirpy was uneasy. Anyhow, he
hastened to explain that a vegetarian was one that ate only food that
grew on plants of one kind or another.

"I live for the most part on seeds and grain," he said. "So you see I'm
quite harmless."

Chirpy Cricket told him that he was glad to know it.

"I'm a vegetarian myself," he added proudly, "for I eat blades of grass.
And you see I'm harmless too."

Mr. Meadow Mouse bestowed another fat smile on him.

"Then," he said, "it must be quite safe for me to stay here and talk with
you."

Chirpy Cricket didn't know why the plump gentleman was smiling, unless it
was because he felt easy in his mind. Chirpy couldn't help liking him, he
was so friendly.

"I'll play my favorite tune for you, if you wish," Chirpy offered, being
eager to do something pleasant for his new acquaintance.

"Do!" said Mr. Meadow Mouse. "And make it as lively as you please. For
I've just dined well and I'm in a very cheerful mood."

So Chirpy Cricket began his _cr-r-r-i!_ _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_ while Mr.
Meadow Mouse moved nearer and watched him closely. After a time he began
to fidget. And at last he asked Chirpy if he wouldn't please be still for
a moment, because there was something he wanted to say.

Chirpy stopped fiddling.

"I notice," said Mr. Meadow Mouse, "that you're having some trouble
tuning up your fiddle. So if you don't mind I'll go over in the cornfield
on a matter of business and come back here later. Then, no doubt, you'll
be all ready to play a tune for me."

Chirpy Cricket had to explain that he had been playing a tune all the
time--that he always played on one note.

So Mr. Meadow Mouse stayed and heard more of the fiddling. He begged
Chirpy's pardon for his mistake. And he said that if he only had a fiddle
he should like to learn the same tune himself. "Although," he added, "it
must be very difficult to play always on the same note. It must take a
great deal of practice."



XXIII

A WAIL IN THE DARK


There was an odd cry that often interrupted the nightly concerts of the
Cricket family. Chirpy Cricket had never heard it in the daytime. But
when twilight began to wrap Pleasant Valley in its shadows, the strange,
wailing call was almost sure to come quavering through the air. Somehow
it always sent a shiver over Chirpy. And sometimes it made him lose a few
notes--if he happened to be fiddling when he heard it.

He learned that it was a dangerous bird known as Simon Screecher--a
cousin of Solomon Owl--that made this uncanny call. If he had lived, like
Solomon, across the meadow in the hemlock woods, Chirpy Cricket would
have paid less heed to the noise he made. But Simon Screecher had his
home in a hollow apple tree in Farmer Green's orchard.

It was said--by those that claimed to know--that Simon Screecher slept in
the daytime. But every tiny night-creature--the Katydids and the Crickets
and all the rest--knew that after sunset Simon Screecher was as wide
awake as anybody.

It was no wonder that Chirpy Cricket was always uneasy when Simon
screeched his warning that he was awake and looking for his supper.
Chirpy knew that he could not depend on Simon to stay long in one place.
Though you heard his screech in the orchard one moment, you might see him
in the farmyard soon afterward. He never ate a whole meal in just one
spot, but preferred to move about wherever his fancy took him. Simon
himself said that he could eat off and on all night long, if he kept
moving.

Somehow Mr. Meadow Mouse had heard of this saying of Simon Screecher's.
"You ought to crawl into your hole under the straw whenever Simon
Screecher is about the neighborhood," he advised Chirpy one evening, when
the two chanced to meet near the fence.

"But Simon is around here every night," Chirpy replied. "If I stayed at
home from dusk till dawn I couldn't take part in another concert all
summer long."

Mr. Meadow Mouse said that that would be a great pity.

"Don't you suppose"--Chirpy asked him hopefully--"don't you suppose I
could jump out of Simon Screecher's reach if he tried to catch me?"

"You could find out by trying," said Mr. Meadow Mouse.

So Chirpy Cricket began to feel more cheerful. He even fiddled a bit,
thinking that he had no special reason to worry. And then all at once he
stopped making music.

Mr. Meadow Mouse had been searching about on the ground for seeds, while
he was enjoying Chirpy's fiddling. And when the music came to a sudden
end he looked up and saw that something was troubling the fiddler.

"What's the matter now?" he inquired.

"An unpleasant idea has just come into my head," Chirpy told him. "It
would be very unlucky for me if I found that I wasn't spry enough to
escape Simon Screecher!"

Mr. Meadow Mouse had to admit that there was a good deal of truth in
Chirpy's remark. But he said he was ready with another suggestion. "It's
a good one, too," he declared.

"What is it?" Chirpy asked him.

"You'll have to think of some other way"--said Mr. Meadow Mouse--"some
other way of being safe from Simon Screecher."



XXIV

FRIGHTENING SIMON SCREECHER


Mr. Meadow Mouse acted as if he thought he had been a great help when he
said that Chirpy Cricket would have to think of another way to avoid
Simon Screecher's cruel talons. But the more Chirpy turned the matter
over in his mind the further he seemed to be from any plan. For several
days and nights he puzzled over his problem. And every time he heard
Simon Screecher's unearthly wail he shivered so hard that his fiddling
actually seemed to shiver too.

Mr. Meadow Mouse inquired regularly whether Chirpy had hit upon any plan.
And at last Mr. Meadow Mouse announced that he would have to think of one
himself. So he sat down and looked very wise, while Chirpy Cricket
fiddled for him, because Mr. Meadow Mouse explained that his wits always
worked better when somebody made music for him.

"Didn't you notice his cry a little while ago?" Mr. Meadow Mouse asked.
"Didn't you notice how his voice trembled?"

"Yes!" Chirpy said. "Yes! Now that you speak of it, I remember that his
voice shook a good deal."

"Ah!" Mr. Meadow Mouse exclaimed. "Something had frightened him. Now, you
had just begun to fiddle before he cried out. And there's no doubt in my
mind that your music scared Simon Screecher. So all you need do to feel
safe from him is to fiddle a plenty every night."

Chirpy Cricket felt so happy all at once that he began a lively tune. And
sure enough! Simon Screecher squalled almost immediately.

"That proves it!" Mr. Meadow Mouse exclaimed. And then he said good
evening and ran off to the place where Farmer Green had been threshing
oats, feeling very well pleased with himself.

Chirpy Cricket took pains to follow Mr. Meadow Mouse's advice. And
neither Simon Screecher--nor his cousin Solomon Owl--troubled Chirpy all
the rest of the summer. He fiddled the nights away with more pleasure
than ever before. And by the time fall came all his neighbors agreed that
he had done even more than his part to make the summer gay for
everybody.





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