Title: The Tale of Jolly Robin
Author: Bailey, Arthur Scott, 1877-1949
Language: English
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THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN



TUCK-ME-IN TALES
(Trademark Registered)

BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF
SLEEPY-TIME TALES

(Trademark Registered)

The Tale of Jolly Robin
The Tale of Old Mr. Crow
The Tale of Solomon Owl
The Tale of Jasper Jay
The Tale of Rusty Wren
The Tale of Daddy Longlegs
The Tale of Kiddie Katydid
The Tale of Buster Bumblebee
The Tale of Freddy Firefly
The Tale of Betsy Butterfly
The Tale of Bobby Bobolink
The Tale or Chirpy Cricket
The Tale of Mrs. Ladybug
The Tale of Reddy Woodpecker
The Tale of Grandmother Goose



[Illustration: Jolly Robin Asks Jasper Jay About The Sign
Frontispiece--(Page 44)]



TUCK-ME-IN TALES

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

Author of
"SLEEPY-TIME TALES"
(Registered Trademark)

ILLUSTRATED BY
HARRY L. SMITH

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America



Copyright, 1917, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP



TABLE OF CONTENTS

 CHAPTER                          PAGE
       I Nestlings                   1
      II Learning to Fly             6
     III The Wide, Wide World       11
      IV What Jolly Did Best        16
       V Laughing for Mr. Crow      21
      VI Tickling a Nose            26
     VII A New Way to Travel        33
    VIII Jolly is Left Behind       38
      IX Jolly's Mistake            43
       X The White Giant            48
      XI What a Snowball Did        53
     XII Jolly Feels Better         57
    XIII The Hermit                 64
     XIV One or Two Blunders        69
      XV Lost--A Cousin!            74
     XVI Jealous Jasper Jay         80
    XVII Only a Rooster             86
   XVIII On Top of the Barn         91
     XIX Curious Mr. Crow           96
      XX The Four-Armed Man        101
     XXI A Doleful Ditty           107
    XXII Shocking Manners          112
   XXIII A Cold Greeting           117



THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN



I

NESTLINGS


Of course, there was a time, once, when Jolly Robin was just a
nestling himself. With two brothers and one sister--all of them, like
him, much spotted with black--he lived in a house in one of Farmer
Green's apple trees.

The house was made of grass and leaves, plastered on the inside with
mud, and lined with softer, finer grass, which his mother had chosen
with the greatest care.

But Jolly never paid much attention to his first home. What
interested him more than anything else was food. From dawn till dark,
he was always _cheeping_ for something to eat. And since the other
children were just as hungry as he was, those four growing babies kept
their parents busy finding food for them. It was then that Jolly Robin
learned to like angleworms. And though he ate greedily of insects and
bugs, as well as wild berries, he liked angleworms best.

Jolly and his sister and his brothers could always tell when their
father or their mother brought home some dainty, because the moment
the parent lighted upon the limb where the nest was built they could
feel their home sink slightly, from the added weight upon the branch.

Then the youngsters would set up a loud squalling, with a great
craning of necks and stretching of orange-colored mouths.

Sometimes, when the dainty was specially big, Mr. or Mrs. Robin would
say, "_Cuck! cuck!_" That meant "Open wide!" But they seldom found it
necessary to give that order.

Somehow, Jolly Robin managed to eat more than the rest of the
nestlings. And so he grew faster than the others. He soon learned a
few tricks, too. For instance, if Mrs. Robin happened to be sitting on
the nest, to keep her family warm, when Mr. Robin returned with a
lunch for the children, Jolly had a trick that he played on his
mother, in case she didn't move off the nest fast enough to suit him.

He would whisper to the rest of the children. And then they would
jostle their fond parent, lifting her up above them, and sometimes
almost upsetting her, so that she had hard work to keep from falling
off the nest.

Mrs. Robin did not like that trick very well. But she knew that Jolly
would not annoy her with it long. Indeed, he was only eleven days old
when he left his birthplace and went out into the wide world.

You see, the young folk grew so fast that they soon more than filled
the house. So there was nothing their parents could do but persuade
them to leave home and learn to fly.

One day, therefore, Mr. Robin did not bring his children's food to the
edge of the nest and drop it into their mouths. Instead, he stood on
the limb a little distance away from them and showed them a plump
angleworm.

The sight of that dainty was more than Jolly Robin could resist. He
scrambled boldly out of the nest; and tottering up to his father on
his wobbling legs, he snatched the tempting morsel out of his proud
parent's bill.

Jolly never went back to the nest after that. The next day Mrs. Robin
coaxed the other children from home in the same fashion. And though it
may seem a heartless act, it was really the best thing that could have
happened to Jolly and his sister and his brothers.

You see, they had to learn to fly. And so long as they stayed in the
nest they could never learn a difficult feat like flying.



II

LEARNING TO FLY


After Jolly Robin had gulped down the fat angleworm with which his
father had coaxed him to leave the nest, he clung desperately to the
limb. With no food in sight he had plenty of time to look about him
and to be alarmed.

The day was not gone before he had a great fright. He tumbled out of
the apple tree and fell squawking and fluttering upon the ground.

Luckily, his mother happened to be at home. She went to Jolly at once
and told him not to be afraid.

"Nothing will hurt you," she said, "if you'll only keep still. But if
you squall like that, the cat will find you."

It may seem strange, but his mother's words frightened Jolly all the
more. They scared him so thoroughly that he stopped making a noise,
anyhow. And that was how he learned never to talk when he was on the
ground near a house where a cat might live.

"Now," said Jolly's mother, as soon as he was still, "I'll teach you a
new game. Just watch me!" And spreading her wings, she flapped them,
and sprang into the air.

Soon Jolly was trying to imitate her. And it was not long before he
found himself gliding a short distance, skimming along just off the
ground.

But in spite of all his efforts, he couldn't help falling again.
Though his mother tried to show him how to fly into a tree-top, Jolly
Robin seemed unable to learn the trick.

At last Mr. Robin said to his wife:

"I'll teach him the rest. You've made a good beginning. But he must
learn more at once. There's no telling when the cat may come into the
orchard to hunt for field-mice. And you know what would happen then."

His wife shuddered. But Mr. Robin told her not to worry.

"I'll soon have this youngster so he can fly as well as anybody," he
declared.

So he went and hopped about on the ground with Jolly for a little
while, showing him how to find worms beneath the grass carpet of the
orchard.

And then, in a loud voice, Mr. Robin suddenly cried:

"The cat! The cat!" And he flew into an old tree near-by.

Jolly Robin had never seen Farmer Green's cat. But he had heard that
she was a dreadful, fierce creature. And when his father shouted her
name Jolly was so startled that he forgot he didn't quite know how to
fly. Before he knew what he was doing, he followed his father right up
into the old apple tree and perched himself on a low branch.

That was the way he learned to fly, for he never had the least trouble
about it afterward. And as soon as he realized that he had actually
flown from the ground to the bough he was so pleased that he began to
laugh merrily.

As for the cat, she was not in the orchard at all. Indeed, Jolly's
father had not said that she was. You see, he had played a joke on his
son.

Now, up to that time Jolly Robin had not been named. You must
remember that he was not two weeks old. And having three other
children of the same age, his parents had not been able to think of
names for all of them.

But this big youngster laughed so heartily that his father named him
"Jolly," on the spot. And "Jolly" he remained ever afterward.



III

THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD


After he learned to fly, Jolly Robin's father took him into the woods
to spend each night in a roost where there were many other young
robins, whose fathers had likewise brought them there.

Jolly learned a great deal from being with so many new friends. It was
not long before he could find plenty of food for himself, without help
from anyone.

He discovered, too, that there was safety in numbers. For example, if
Jasper Jay made too great a nuisance of himself by bullying a young
robin, a mob of robins could easily put Jasper to flight.

"_Always help other people!_" That was a motto that all the youngsters
had to learn. And another was this: "_Follow your father's lead!_"

Later in the season, in October, when the robin cousins and uncles and
aunts and sisters and brothers and all the rest of the relations made
their long journey to their winter homes in the South, Jolly found
that there was a good reason for such rules. If he hadn't followed his
father then he might have lost his way, because--since it was the
first time he had ever been out of Pleasant Valley--he knew nothing
whatever about travelling.

He looked forward with much interest to the journey, for as the days
grew shorter he heard a great deal of talk about the trip among his
elders. And while he was waiting for the day when they should leave he
became acquainted with many new and delicious morsels to eat. He
roamed about picking wild grapes, mulberries and elderberries. And he
did not scorn a large, green katydid when he chanced to find one.

There was always some new dainty to be sampled; though as the weather
grew colder Jolly began to understand that in winter Pleasant Valley
would not be so fine a place to live.

However, he managed to find food enough so that he continued to grow
rapidly. The night after he found a mountain ash on a hillside, full
of bright red berries, his father said that he seemed much taller than
he had been that morning.

"You must have eaten a great many of those berries," said Mr. Robin.

"Well, I notice one thing," Jolly observed. "My waistcoat is fast
losing its black spots. And it's redder than it was. The red berries
certainly colored it in some way."

Mr. Robin replied that he had never heard of such a thing happening.
He looked curiously at his son's waistcoat.

"It _does_ seem to look different," he said. "It's brighter than it
was."

Really, that was only because Jolly was fast growing up. But neither
he nor his father stopped to think of that. And since Jolly had
learned that motto, "_Follow your father's lead_," he thought his
waistcoat ought to be just as red as old Mr. Robin's was.

So Jolly visited the mountain ash each day and fairly stuffed himself
with the bright red fruit.

It did him no harm, anyhow. And he enjoyed eating it.

And the next spring, when Jolly Robin returned to Pleasant Valley,
after spending the winter in the South, there was not a redder
waistcoat than his in all the neighborhood.



IV

WHAT JOLLY DID BEST


Jolly Robin had something on his mind. For several days he had been
turning a certain matter over in his head. But in spite of all his
thinking, he seemed unable to find any answer to the question that was
troubling him. So at last he decided he would have to ask somebody to
help him.

And that was why Jolly stopped Jimmy Rabbit near the garden one day.

"I want your advice," he told Jimmy Rabbit.

"Certainly!" that young gentleman replied. And he sat himself down
upon his wheelbarrow and looked very earnest. "If it's anything about
gardening," he said, "I should advise you to raise cabbages, by all
means."

But Jolly Robin said he wasn't thinking of planting a garden.

"In fact," he explained, "the trouble is, I don't know what to do. I'd
like to have some regular work, you know. And since you've had a good
deal of experience, having run a tooth-pulling parlor, a barber-shop,
and a shoe-store, I thought you might be able to tell me what would be
a good business for me to take up."

For a few minutes Jimmy Rabbit did not speak. But he nodded his head
wisely.

"Let me see!" he said at last. "What's the thing you do best?"

Jolly Robin replied at once that he thought he could fly better than
he could do anything else. And he felt so happy, because he was sure
Jimmy Rabbit was going to help him, that he began to laugh gaily. And
he couldn't help singing a snatch of a new song he had heard that
morning. And then he laughed again.

"You're mistaken," Jimmy Rabbit said to him. "You fly well enough, I
dare say. But there are others who can beat you at flying.... No!" he
declared. "What you can do better than anybody I know is to _laugh_.
And if I were you I should make laughing my regular business."

That idea struck Jolly Robin as being so funny that he laughed harder
than ever. And Jimmy Rabbit nodded his head again, as if to say, "I'm
right and I know it!"

At last Jolly Robin stopped laughing long enough to ask Jimmy to
explain how anyone could make a business of laughing. "I don't see how
it could be done," said Jolly Robin.

"Why--it's simple enough!" Jimmy told him. "All you need do is to find
somebody who will hire you to laugh for him. There are people, you
know, who find it very difficult to laugh. I should think they'd be
glad to pay somebody to do their laughing for them."

"Name someone!" Jolly Robin urged him.

And Jimmy Rabbit did.

"There's old Mr. Crow!" he said. "You know how solemn he is. It's
positively painful to hear him try to laugh at a joke. I'm sure he
would be delighted with this idea. And if I were you I'd see him
before somebody else does."

Jolly Robin looked puzzled.

"Who would ever think of such a thing but you?" he asked.

"Nobody!" Jimmy Rabbit replied. "But I like the scheme so well that I
almost wish I hadn't mentioned it. And unless you make your bargain
with old Mr. Crow at once I may decide to go into the laughing
business myself.... My advice to you," he said, "is to hurry!"

So Jolly Robin thanked him. And then he flew away to find old Mr.
Crow.

Of course, he went to the cornfield first.



V

LAUGHING FOR MR. CROW


Sure enough! old Mr. Crow was in the cornfield. And though he was
feeling somewhat peevish that morning, because a coon had disturbed
his rest the night before, he listened to what Jolly Robin had to
say.

"I've come to ask you a question," Jolly told him. "I've decided to go
into business--the laughing business. And I want to inquire if you
wouldn't like to engage me to do your laughing for you."

Well, that struck old Mr. Crow as being very funny. He forgot all
about his loss of sleep. And his eye twinkled quite merrily. He tried
to laugh, too; but it was a pitiful attempt--no more than a hoarse
cackle, which was, as Jimmy Rabbit had said, positively painful. Old
Mr. Crow seemed to realize that he was making a very queer sound. He
hastily turned his laugh into a cough and pretended that he had a
kernel of corn stuck in his throat.

"What are your prices?" he asked Jolly Robin. "Are you going to charge
by the day or by the laugh?"

"Just as you prefer!" Jolly answered.

"Well, I'll have to think about it," old Mr. Crow told him. "It's a
question that I wouldn't care to decide in a hurry. If I paid you by
the day you might not laugh at all. And if I paid you by the laugh you
might laugh all the time.... It would be pretty expensive, either way.
And I don't believe I'd like that."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Jolly Robin then. "I'll stay with
you one day for nothing. And we'll see how the arrangement suits us."

That suggestion pleased Mr. Crow.

"Agreed!" he said quickly. "And now," he added, "you may laugh for me,
because I am quite delighted."

So Jolly Robin laughed happily. And old Mr. Crow remarked that it was
a _fair_ laugh, though not so loud as he would have liked.

"I'll do better next time," Jolly assured him.

"Good!" said Mr. Crow. "And now, since I've finished my breakfast,
we'll go over to the woods and see what's going on there this
morning."

The first person they saw in the woods was Peter Mink. He was fishing
for trout in Broad Brook. And old Mr. Crow, as soon as he spied him,
sang out:

"How many of Farmer Green's fish have you eaten this morning?"

Peter Mink was just crawling out of the water, with a fish in his
mouth. When he heard Mr. Crow calling to him, he dropped his trout
upon a rock and looked up quickly.

"How much of Farmer Green's corn have you stolen for your breakfast?"
he cried.

At that Jolly Robin began to laugh. But Mr. Crow stopped him quickly.

"Don't laugh!" the old gentleman squawked. "There's nothing to laugh
at, so far as I can see."

So Jolly managed to smother his laughter, for he noticed that Mr. Crow
was angry.

"You'll have to be careful," Mr. Crow warned him. "You mustn't laugh
at the wrong time, you know."

"I'll do my best," Jolly Robin promised. And he could see already that
old Mr. Crow was going to be hard to please.



VI

TICKLING A NOSE


Old Mr. Crow did not want to stay near the brook to talk with Peter
Mink. Calling to Jolly Robin to follow him, he flapped his way to the
edge of the woods and sat in a tree overlooking the pasture.

"Here comes Tommy Fox!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "We ought to have some fun
with him. So when it's time for you to laugh for me, don't forget to
laugh loudly."

"I'll remember," Jolly promised him. And just by way of practice he
chirruped so merrily that Tommy Fox pricked up his ears and came
bounding up to the tree where Jolly and Mr. Crow were sitting.

"Good morning!" Mr. Crow cried to Tommy. "Is that a hen's feather
that's stuck behind your ear?" he asked very solemnly.

"No!" said Tommy Fox. "It's a crow's; and I certainly had a fine
breakfast."

Now, Jolly Robin wasn't quite sure whether he ought to laugh or not.
And then Tommy winked at him. So Jolly thought there must be a joke
somewhere and he began to chirrup as loudly as he could.

"For pity's sake, keep still!" old Mr. Crow snapped.

"But you wanted me to laugh louder," Jolly reminded him.

"Yes," said Mr. Crow--"when there's anything to laugh at."

"But didn't Tommy Fox make a joke?" Jolly Robin asked.

"A very poor one!" old Mr. Crow replied. "A very poor joke, indeed!...
I see," he added, "I see you've not had much experience laughing for
people. And here's where you make a mistake. You laugh at _other
people's_ jokes, which is all wrong. After this you must laugh at _my_
jokes--do you understand?"

Jolly Robin said he understood. And Mr. Crow remarked that he was glad
there would be no more trouble.

"And now," the old fellow said, "now we'll go over to the swamp, where
Uncle Sammy Coon lives. We ought to have some fun with him."

So over to the swamp they flew, where they found Uncle Sammy Coon
sunning himself in the top of a tall hemlock.

"How-dy-do!" said Mr. Crow.

But Uncle Sammy Coon did not answer.

"We're in luck!" Mr. Crow said with a chuckle. "I declare, I believe
the old beggar's asleep. Just watch me play a practical joke on him!"

So Mr. Crow lighted on a branch near Uncle Sammy Coon and began
tickling his nose.

Pretty soon Uncle Sammy Coon sneezed. And when that happened, Mr. Crow
jumped back quickly. But Uncle Sammy didn't awake--at least, he didn't
open his eyes. So Mr. Crow tickled his nose again.

Now, old Mr. Crow was so amused that he glanced at Jolly Robin, to see
if he was watching. And in that instant when Mr. Crow looked away,
Uncle Sammy Coon leaped at him. He caught Mr. Crow by the tail, too.

The old gentleman set up a great din. He squawked, "Help! help!" at
the top of his voice and flapped his broad wings.

The struggle was over in a moment. By a great effort Mr. Crow broke
away, leaving one of his tail-feathers with Uncle Sammy Coon, and flew
into another tree near-by.

Then Jolly Robin laughed as if he would never stop. He thought that it
must be the proper time to laugh, because Mr. Crow had said he was
going to play a joke on Uncle Sammy.

Mr. Crow, however, seemed to think differently about the matter.

"Do keep quiet!" he cried. "There's nothing to laugh at, so far as I
can see."

"But you said you were going to play a joke on Uncle Sammy Coon,
didn't you?" Jolly inquired.

"Yes!" Mr. Crow replied. "But it's no joke to lose a tail-feather. And
I wouldn't think of laughing at what just happened.... Besides," he
continued, "your laughter is altogether wrong. What you must try to
do is to laugh _very sadly_. In fact," he added, "I wouldn't mind if
you shed a few tears, because I feel quite upset over this unfortunate
accident."

Well, Jolly Robin saw at once that it was impossible for him to please
Mr. Crow.

"My laughter," he said, "is always merry. I couldn't laugh sadly, no
matter how hard I might try. And as for shedding tears, I couldn't
weep for you even if you lost all your tail-feathers, Mr. Crow."

"Then you may leave at once!" Mr. Crow cried, just as if Farmer
Green's pasture belonged to him.

"Yes!" Jolly Robin answered. "I may--and then again, I may not!"

And since he stayed right there and laughed, old Mr. Crow himself flew
away. It was a long while, too, before he could bear to hear people
laugh. For he thought they must be laughing at him, because he had
lost a tail-feather.

And perhaps that was what amused Jolly Robin, though I never thought
of that before.



VII

A NEW WAY TO TRAVEL


The time had come when Jolly Robin was ready to begin his long journey
to the South, for it was growing quite cold. On some days there was no
sun at all. And even when the weather was fair the sun rose late and
went to bed early. It was exactly the sort of weather Jolly Robin did
not like.

"No doubt you'll be leaving us soon," Jasper Jay remarked to Jolly one
day, when the two chanced to meet in Farmer Green's woods, where the
beeches grew.

"I expect to start to-morrow," Jolly Robin answered with a short
laugh. The mere thought of his warm, light-flooded winter home in the
Southland made him feel glad.

"Well, well!" Jasper Jay exclaimed. "I'm glad I happened to see you,
for I know of a new way to travel."

And Jolly Robin wanted to know all about it.

"If it's a better way than the old, I'll be pleased to try it," he
said.

"Oh! it's much better," Jasper told him. "If I hadn't made up my mind
to spend the winter in Pleasant Valley, I'd go the new way myself. But
the beechnut crop is good this fall. So I shall stay right here to
enjoy it."

"Tell me how we're to go, if you please!" Jolly Robin urged him.

"We?" said Jasper. "You don't mean to say you are going with a
_crowd_, do you?"

"Why, yes!" Jolly Robin replied. "All the Robins are leaving
to-morrow. And I had intended to go with them."

Jasper Jay shook his head.

"Take my advice and don't do any such thing," he said. "You'll find it
quieter travelling alone. And though you may not know it, it's the
fashionable thing to do."

Jolly Robin laughed when Jasper said that.

"But I'm not a fashionable person!" he exclaimed.

"Then you should become one," Jasper told him. "Besides, the new way
is _easier_, as well as more stylish. But if you're _afraid_ to try
something new, of course I wouldn't think of urging you."

"I'm not afraid!" Jolly Robin cried. "And if you'll only tell me what
I'm to do, I promise you I'll do it!"

"Good!" said Jasper Jay. "Meet me here day after to-morrow and I'll
start you on your journey. I can't explain anything now, because I
must hurry over to the woods at once, where my cousin, Mr. Crow, is
waiting for me." Then he flew away, screaming a loud good-by as he
went.

So Jolly Robin hastened back to the orchard, to find his wife and tell
her what he had decided to do.

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

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

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



VIII

JOLLY IS LEFT BEHIND


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

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

And Jolly Robin laughed and said to them gaily:

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

His wife, however, shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



IX

JOLLY'S MISTAKE


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        TO SKY POND, 15 MILES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



X

THE WHITE GIANT


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



XI

WHAT A SNOWBALL DID


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



XII

JOLLY FEELS BETTER


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Jimmy Rabbit thought differently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



XIII

THE HERMIT


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



XIV

ONE OR TWO BLUNDERS


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do what?" his cousin inquired uneasily.

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

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

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

His cousin shook his head at that.

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

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

"It's a wonder--" he remarked--"it's a wonder your wife doesn't bury
her eggs in the sand beside the creek, like old Mrs. Turtle."

"I'd thank you," said the Hermit, stiffly, "not to say such things
about my wife." And though he spoke politely enough, his manner was
quite cold. It was clear that he felt terribly insulted.

Jolly Robin saw that he had blundered. And wishing to change the
subject, he said hastily:

"Won't you sing another song?"

So the Hermit cleared his throat and began to sing again.

Although this song was not so sad as the first one, Jolly Robin did
not like it half so well. The chorus, especially, he considered quite
offensive. And it is not surprising, perhaps, that it displeased him,
for this is the way it went:

                "Any old vest
                May do for the rest;
                But _I_ like a spotted one best!"

If it hadn't been for that song, Jolly Robin would not have remembered
that he had intended to speak to his cousin about his spotted
waistcoat. Jolly had been so interested in the nest on the ground that
the matter of the waistcoat had slipped out of his mind. But now he
suddenly recalled the reason why he had come to see the Hermit. And he
disliked his cousin's spotted finery more than ever.

Thereupon, he resolved that he would speak about it, too.



XV

LOST--A COUSIN!


When the Hermit Thrush had finished his song about the spotted vest,
he looked at his cousin Jolly Robin out of the corner of his eye.

"How do you like that one?" he inquired. He noticed that Jolly was not
laughing.

"That seems to me to be a very silly song," Jolly Robin said. "But I'm
glad you sang it, because it has reminded me that I was going to speak
to you about that spotted waistcoat you're so fond of wearing."

"What's the matter with my waistcoat?" the Hermit asked quickly. "I'm
sure it's a very handsome one."

"I don't like it!" Jolly told him. "I wouldn't be caught with it on me
for anything. Everybody says that you're a great dandy because you
wear it. And since you're my cousin, I think I ought to tell you what
people are saying about you."

"I don't care what people say!" the Hermit exclaimed. "Those that
don't like my beautiful waistcoat can look the other way when I'm
around. And if my style of dress doesn't please you, I'd suggest that
you keep out of this swamp."

"Now, don't get angry!" Jolly Robin begged. He gave his cousin a
smile, hoping that it might make him feel pleasanter. "I was only
trying to help you. I was only going to advise you to wear a red
waistcoat, like mine."

Now, the mere thought of wearing a red waistcoat made the Hermit feel
faint. Some people say that all great singers are like that. If they
don't like a thing, they can't bear even to think about it. And it was
a fact that the words "red waistcoat" had always made Jolly Robin's
cousin shudder.

Maybe one reason why he never went to visit Jolly was because he
couldn't endure the sight of his bright red vest.

Of course, Jolly Robin knew nothing about all this.

"Red would be very becoming to you," he continued. "And it's certainly
a cheerful color, too. You need brightening up. I don't believe it's
good for you, living in this damp swamp and singing sad songs. What
you ought to do is to get some clothes like mine and bring your wife
over to Farmer Green's orchard and build a nest in an apple tree....
We could have some gay times together," he said smilingly.

Like many other people Jolly Robin thought his own ways were the best.
And since the Hermit was just as sure that nobody else knew how to
dress, or how to sing, or how to build a house as well as he did, it
is quite plain that the two cousins never could agree.

"Just tell your wife about my plan when she comes home," said Jolly
Robin. "And I'll fly over to-morrow and show you the way to the
orchard."

"I'll tell her," his cousin promised.

"Good!" said Jolly Robin. And he gave his delicate cousin a hearty
slap on the back, which made the poor fellow wince--for it hurt him
not a little. "Good-by!" Jolly cried. And chirping loudly, he flew
back home.

Now, Jolly noticed, as he left, that his cousin called "Farewell!" in
a melancholy tone. But he thought no more about it at the time. He
told his wife the good news as soon as he reached the orchard; for
Jolly was sure that his cousin the Hermit was going to follow his
advice.

But the next day Jolly met with a great surprise. When he went to the
swamp near Black Creek he couldn't find his cousin anywhere--nor his
cousin's wife, either. Even their three eggs had disappeared from the
nest on the ground.

"I hope Fatty Coon hasn't eaten the eggs," said Jolly Robin, as he
gazed into the empty nest. "But it's no more than anybody could expect
who's so foolish as to build a nest on the ground." He grew quite
uneasy. And he was puzzled, too.

Later, when Jolly Robin met old Mr. Crow, he learned that his cousin,
the Hermit Thrush, and his wife had moved away from the swamp the
evening before.

"They've left for parts unknown," old Mr. Crow explained. "I saw them
when they started. And when I asked your cousin where they were going,
he said that they didn't know, but they were hoping to find some
peaceful neighborhood where they had no relations."

"That's strange!" Jolly Robin exclaimed. "We are very fond of each
other--my cousin and I. By the way," he added, "did you happen to
notice what sort of waistcoat he was wearing?"

Mr. Crow said he had noticed; and that it was a light-colored one with
dark spots.

"Dear me!" said Jolly Robin. "I was hoping he had put on a red one.
But since he moved in such a hurry, perhaps he hadn't time to
change."

Whether that was the case, Jolly Robin never learned. For he never saw
his cousin the Hermit again.



XVI

JEALOUS JASPER JAY


The feathered folk in Pleasant Valley were all aflutter. They had
heard a strange tale--the oddest tale, almost, that had ever been told
in their neighborhood.

It was Jolly Robin who had started the story. And since he was not in
the habit of playing jokes on people, everybody believed what he
said--at least, everybody except Jasper Jay. He declared from the
first that Jolly Robin's tale was a hoax.

"I claim that there's not a word of truth in it!" Jasper Jay said.

Now, there was a reason why Jasper spoke in that disagreeable way. He
didn't want the story to be true. And, somehow, he felt that if he
said it was a hoax, it would really prove to be one.

"I know well enough," said Jasper, "that there's no golden bird in
Pleasant Valley--and nowhere else, either!"

You see, Jolly Robin had hurried to the woods one day and told
everyone he met that a wonderful golden bird had come to Pleasant
Valley.

"He's not just yellow, like a goldfinch. He's solid gold all over,
from the tip of his bill to the tip of his tail. Even his feet are
golden. And he glistens in the sunshine as if he were afire!" That was
the way Jolly Robin described the marvellous newcomer. "He's the
handsomest bird that ever was seen," he added.

Perhaps Jasper Jay was jealous. You know he was a great dandy, being
very proud of his blue suit, which was really quite beautiful.
Anyhow, Jasper Jay began to sulk as soon as he heard the news.

"Where is this magnificent person?" he asked Jolly Robin with a sneer.
"Do let me see him! And if he wants to fight, I'll soon spoil his
finery for him. He won't look so elegant after I've pulled out his
tail-feathers."

But Jolly Robin wouldn't tell anybody where he had seen the wonderful
bird. He said the golden bird was three times as big as Jasper Jay.
And he didn't want Jasper to get hurt, even if he was so
disagreeable.

Anyone can see, just from that, that Jolly Robin was very kind.

"You'd better be careful, or I'll fight you, too!" Jasper warned him.

But Jolly was not afraid. He knew that Jasper was something of a
braggart and a bully. He had chased Jasper once. And he thought he
could do it again, if he had to.

"My cousin will tell me where to find this yellow fellow," said Jasper
Jay at last. "There's not much that happens in Pleasant Valley that my
cousin doesn't know about." So he flew off to find old Mr. Crow--for
he was the cousin of whom Jasper was speaking.

Jasper found Mr. Crow in his favorite tree in the pine woods. And sure
enough! the old gentleman seemed to know all about the golden bird.
But like Jolly Robin, he refused to say where he had seen him. To tell
the truth, Mr. Crow had never set eyes on the strange bird. But he did
not like to admit it. "He's a great credit to the neighborhood," said
old Mr. Crow. "And you'd better let him alone, if you should happen to
find him, because he's solid gold, you know. And if you flew at him
and tried to peck him, just as likely as not you'd break your bill on
him, he's so hard."

Old Mr. Crow's warning, however, had no effect at all upon Jasper
Jay.

"I'm going to search every corner in the valley until I find this fop.
And I'll teach him that he'd better get out of our neighborhood with
his fine airs."

When he heard that, old Mr. Crow shook his head.

"You're going to have trouble!" he told Jasper. And then he hurried
away to tell Jolly Robin that he ought to advise the golden bird to
leave Pleasant Valley.

But Jolly Robin said he had not spoken with the stranger. And never
having talked with a golden bird, he felt a bit shy about saying
anything to him.

"Then there'll be a terrible fight, I'm afraid," said Mr. Crow.

"I'm afraid so," Jolly Robin agreed. And strange as it may seem, they
both said that if there was going to be a fight they didn't want to
miss seeing it.



XVII

ONLY A ROOSTER


Jasper Jay spent several days looking for the great golden bird that
Jolly Robin had described. But Jasper couldn't find the wonderful
creature anywhere. And he was wondering if it wasn't just a hoax after
all, as he had claimed. He had almost decided to give up his search,
when he chanced to meet Bennie Barn-Swallow one day. Jasper happened
to mention that he was on the lookout for Jolly Robin's strange bird;
and Bennie Barn-Swallow said quickly:

"Do you mean the bird of gold?"

"The bird of _brass_, I should say!" Jasper replied, with his nose in
the air. "You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Why, yes!" said Bennie. "He stays right near my house."

Of course, Jasper Jay knew that Bennie lived in a mud house, under the
eaves of Farmer Green's barn. So he cried at once: "Then my search is
ended! I'll come over to the barn this afternoon and fight the
upstart."

The news spread quickly--the news of the fight that was going to take
place at Farmer Green's barn. And as soon as he heard it, Jolly Robin
went straight to the barn and asked the golden bird if he wouldn't
leave Pleasant Valley at once.

But the great, gorgeous creature paid no attention to Jolly Robin's
request. Indeed, he seemed not to hear his words at all--though Jolly
Robin thought the stranger was just pretending.

Jolly had to sing a good many songs that day to keep up his spirits.
Somehow, he felt that it was all his fault that there was going to be
a fight.

"I wish I hadn't told anyone about the golden bird," he said. "Maybe
he would have flown away before Jasper Jay heard of his being here."

Well, Jasper invited everybody to come to the barn late in the
afternoon to see him whip the golden bird and pull out his
tail-feathers.

"There's going to be some fun," said Jasper Jay. "Nobody ought to miss
it."

So, as the afternoon waned, the feathered folk began to gather in the
orchard. Jolly Robin was there, and his wife, and old Mr. Crow, Rusty
Wren, Bobbie Bobolink, Miss Kitty Catbird, and a good many others as
well. There was a good deal of noise, for everyone was chattering.
And Jasper Jay made almost as great a din as all his friends
together. He boasted in a loud voice that he was going to give the
golden bird a terrible beating. And he was so pleased with himself
that some of his companions whispered to one another that it might be
a good thing if the golden bird gave Jasper a sound whipping.

At last Jasper Jay called out that he was ready. And then he started
for Farmer Green's barn, while the eager crew followed close behind
him. They all alighted on the ridge of the barn. And like Jasper Jay,
they sat there for a short time and stared at the golden bird, who
shimmered like fire in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

Jolly Robin and Bennie Barn-Swallow had seen him before; so they
weren't surprised. But all the others gazed at him in amazement.

Now, to Jasper Jay the golden bird looked enormous. He was perched
high up on a rod which rose above the roof. And he seemed very proud
and disdainful. In fact, he paid no attention at all to the curious
flock that watched him.

For a little while nobody said a word. And Jasper Jay was the first to
speak.

"Fiddlesticks!" he cried. "This is nothing but a barnyard fowl. He's a
rooster--that's what he is!"



XVIII

ON TOP OF THE BARN


All the feathered folk on the roof of Farmer Green's barn saw at once
that Jasper Jay had told the truth. The golden bird was a rooster,
just as Jasper had said. But it seemed strange to them that a rooster
should sit on so high a perch.

"It looks to me," said old Mr. Crow, "it looks to me as if he had
flown up here and lighted on that rod and then was afraid to fly down
again."

"I'll knock him off!" cried Jasper Jay. And he made ready to swoop at
the stranger.

"I wouldn't do that!" said Jolly Robin.

"No!" Jasper Jay replied. "I know you wouldn't. You'd be _afraid_ to
do such a thing."

"It's not that," Jolly Robin told him, "though he _is_ ten times my
size. This is what I mean: He's a peaceable fellow. And though I will
admit that he seems a little too proud, he hasn't harmed anybody. So
why should anybody harm him?"

"He's a barnyard fowl and he belongs on the ground," Jasper Jay
declared. "If we let him stay up here in the air there's no knowing
what Farmer Green's fowls will do. All his hens and roosters--and he
has a hundred of 'em--may take to flying about where they don't
belong. This golden gentleman is setting them a bad example. And it is
my duty to teach him a lesson."

Now, the real reason why Jasper wanted to knock the golden rooster
off his high perch was because he was so handsome. Jasper's fine blue
suit looked quite dull beside the golden dress of the stranger. And
that was more than Jasper could stand.

"Here I go!" Jasper cried. And he left his friends and flew straight
at the golden fowl.

Jasper struck the rooster such a hard blow that he spun around on his
perch twice. But he didn't lose his balance. And he never said a
single word.

"I'll pull out his tail-feathers this time!" Jasper squawked, as he
darted at the stranger again. But Jasper had no luck at all. Though he
pecked viciously at the tail of the golden rooster, he succeeded only
in hurting his own bill.

Several times Jasper tried. But not one tail-feather came away. And
some of the onlookers began to smile. Old Mr. Crow even guffawed
aloud. But Jasper Jay pretended not to hear him.

"Don't you think we'd better go away?" Jolly Robin asked Jasper at
last.

"I think _you_ had better leave," Jasper screamed. He was very angry,
because he knew that his friends were laughing at him. And instead of
flying at the golden rooster again he made a swift attack on Jolly
Robin.

Being angry, Jasper had forgotten that Jolly Robin's wife was present.
And to the blue-coated rascal there seemed suddenly to be as many as
six Jolly Robins, each one with a furious wife, too.

Jasper fought his hardest. But he was no match for them. Very soon he
made for the woods; and as he flew away a blue tail-feather with a
white tip floated down into the barnyard, where Johnnie Green had
stood for some minutes, watching the strange sight on the roof of his
father's barn.

Johnnie picked up the feather and stuck it in his hat. And when he
told his father, later, how a big blue jay had tried to whip the new
weather-vane and a pair of robins as well, Farmer Green threw back his
head and laughed loudly.

"Don't you believe me?" Johnnie asked him. "Here's the blue jay's
tail-feather, anyhow. And that ought to prove that I am telling the
truth."

But Farmer Green only laughed all the more. You see, he could hardly
believe all the strange things that happened in the neighborhood.



XIX

CURIOUS MR. CROW


Living in the orchard as they did, near the farmhouse, Jolly Robin and
his wife knew more about Farmer Green's family than any of the other
birds in Pleasant Valley, except maybe Rusty Wren. Being a house wren,
Rusty was naturally on the best of terms with all the people in the
farmhouse.

But all summer long Rusty Wren never strayed far from home. So it was
Jolly Robin who told his friends in the woods many strange stories
about what happened near the orchard. His account of the golden bird
was only one of many curious tales that he related to the wondering
wood-creatures.

Being so cheerful and having so much interesting news to tell, Jolly
Robin was welcome wherever he went. And when his friends met him in
the woods or the fields they were sure to stop and ask him if he
hadn't some new story to tell. One day old Mr. Crow even took the
trouble to fly all the way across the cornfield to the edge of the
woods, where his sharp eyes had seen Jolly Robin eating wild
cherries.

"I say, what do you know that's new?" Mr. Crow asked him. The old
gentleman was a very curious person. Being a great gossip, he was
always on the lookout for something to talk about.

"I don't believe I've seen anything lately that would interest you,"
Jolly replied, "unless it's the four-armed man."

Mr. Crow looked up quickly.

"What's that you say?" he exclaimed.

"The four-armed man!" Jolly Robin repeated.

"Is that a joke?" Mr. Crow asked. He was inclined to be suspicious,
because he always disliked having tricks played upon him. "I've heard
of--and seen--a two-headed calf," he remarked. "But a four-armed man
is a little too much for me to believe in, unless I behold him with my
own eyes."

Jolly Robin laughed.

"It's no joke at all!" he declared.

"Then what are you laughing at?" Mr. Crow inquired severely.

"Nothing!" Jolly Robin answered. "It's just a habit of mine to
laugh."

"Very well!" said Mr. Crow. "I accept your apology. But please don't
do it again.... And now," he added, "where, pray, is this wonderful
four-armed man?"

"In the barnyard!" Jolly Robin informed him. "I've often seen him
lately, walking between the house and the barn. He looks a good deal
like the hired-man. But of course it can't be he, for the
hired-man--as you yourself know--has but two arms."

"I must have a look at this monster," Mr. Crow remarked. "When would
be a good time for me to see him?"

"At milking-time," Jolly Robin told him. "If you'll meet me on the
bridge down the road when you see Johnnie Green and old dog Spot
driving the cows home from the pasture this afternoon, I'll be glad to
show you the four-armed man. And then you'll admit that I'm not
joking."

"I'll certainly be there--" Mr. Crow promised--"but on one condition.
You must tell me now whether you have ever known this queer being to
fire a gun. If a two-armed man can shoot one gun, I see no reason why
a four-armed man could not fire at least two guns at the same time.
And if there's any chance of such a thing happening, I would not care
to be present."

Jolly Robin had hard work to keep from laughing again. The very idea
of the four-armed man aiming two guns at old Mr. Crow struck him as
being very funny. He couldn't speak at all for a few moments. But he
shook his head violently.

"You think there's no danger, then?" said Mr. Crow, anxiously.

"None at all!" Jolly Robin answered him. "He carries nothing more
dangerous than milk-pails."

"Then I'll meet you on the bridge," Mr. Crow promised.



XX

THE FOUR-ARMED MAN


Old dog Spot was driving the last cow down the lane when Jolly Robin
and Mr. Crow met on the bridge near the farmhouse, as they had
agreed.

"Now, then--" said Mr. Crow, even before his broad wings had settled
smoothly along his back--"now, then, where's the four-armed man?"

Jolly looked towards the barnyard.

"I don't see him yet," he said. "But he ought to appear any moment
now. Let's move over to the big oak, for we can get a better view of
the barnyard from the top of it."

Mr. Crow was more than willing. So they flew to the oak and waited for
a time. They saw the cows file into the barn, each finding her own
place in one of the two long rows of stanchions that faced each other
across the wide aisle running the length of the barn. It was through
that aisle that the men walked with great forkfuls of hay in the
winter time, which they flung down before the cows, who munched it
contentedly.

But it was summer now. And the cows found their own food in the
pasture on the hillside. They came to the barn only to be milked.

"It's milking-time right now," Jolly Robin remarked. "And pretty soon
you'll see the four-armed man come out of the barn with some pails
full of milk. He'll carry them into the house, to set them in the
buttery. We'll have a good look at him without his knowing anything
about it."

And that was exactly what happened.

"Here he comes!" Jolly Robin exclaimed, as a figure stepped out of the
barn and began walking toward the house. "Now, you'll have to admit
that I wasn't joking when I told you the news of this strange being.
You ought to be pretty glad I let you know about the four-armed man,
Mr. Crow. I guess you never saw anything quite so queer as he is, even
if you _have_ seen a two-headed calf." Jolly Robin said a great deal
more to Mr. Crow. And he was so pleased that he started to sing a
song.

But Mr. Crow quickly silenced him.

"Do keep still!" he whispered. "Do you want to get me into trouble?
It's bad enough to have a trick like this played on me, without your
making such a noise. Farmer Green might shoot me if he saw me so near
his house. I thought--" Mr. Crow added--"I thought you laughed a
little too much when you told me about your four-armed man. It's a
hoax--a joke--a trick--and a very poor one, too."

Jolly Robin was puzzled enough by Mr. Crow's disagreeable remarks.

"I don't understand how you can say those things," he said.

Mr. Crow looked narrowly at his small companion before answering. And
then he asked:

"Do you mean to say you never heard of a neck-yoke?"

"Never!" cried Jolly Robin.

"Well, well!" said Mr. Crow. "The ignorance of some people is more
than I can understand.... That was no four-armed man. You said he
looked like Farmer Green's hired-man; and it is not surprising that
he does, for he is the hired-man. He has found an old neck-yoke
somewhere. It is just a piece of wood that fits about his shoulders
and around his neck and sticks out on each side of him like an arm.
And he hooks a pail of milk to each end of the yoke, carrying his load
in that way. I supposed," said Mr. Crow, "that people had stopped
using neck-yokes fifty years ago. It's certainly that long since I've
seen one."

"Then it's no wonder that I made a mistake!" Jolly Robin cried. "For
I'm too young ever to have heard of a neck-yoke, even." And he laughed
and chuckled merrily. "It's a good joke on me!" he said.

But old Mr. Crow did not laugh.

"There you go, making a noise again!" he said crossly. "A person's not
safe in your company." And he hurried off across the meadow. Mr. Crow
was always very nervous when he was near the farmhouse.

But Jolly Robin stayed right there until the hired-man walked back to
the barn. He saw then that what Mr. Crow had told him was really so.
And he never stopped laughing until long after sunset.



XXI

A DOLEFUL DITTY


Jolly Robin often complained about the wailing of Willie
Whip-poor-will. Willie lived in the woods, which were not far from the
orchard. And it was annoying to Jolly to hear his call,
"_Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will_," repeated over and over again for
some two hours after Jolly's bed-time. Neither did Jolly Robin enjoy
being awakened by that same sound an hour or two before he wanted to
get up in the morning. And what was still worse, on moonlight nights
Willie sometimes sang his favorite song from sunset to sunrise.

"What a doleful ditty!" said Jolly Robin. "I must see this fellow and
tell him that he ought to change his tune." But the trouble was that
Jolly Robin did not like to roam about at night. He was always too
sleepy to do that. And in the daytime Willie Whip-poor-will was
silent, resting or sleeping upon the ground in the woods.

But a day came at last when Jolly Robin stumbled upon Willie
Whip-poor-will, sound asleep where he lived. And Jolly lost no time in
waking him up.

"I've been wanting to speak to you for some time," he told the drowsy
fellow.

"What's the matter?" Willie Whip-poor-will asked, with a startled
stare. "Are the woods on fire?"

"No!" said Jolly Robin. "I want to talk with you--that's all." And he
was as cheerful as anyone could have wished.

But Willie Whip-poor-will looked very cross.

"This is a queer time to make a call!" he grumbled. "I don't like to
be disturbed in broad daylight. I supposed everybody knew that
midnight is the proper time for a visit."

"But I'm always asleep then," Jolly Robin objected, "unless it's a
moonlight night and you happen to be singing on my side of the
woods."

Willie Whip-poor-will looked almost pleasant when Jolly said that.

"So you stay awake to hear me!" he exclaimed. "I see you like my
singing."

Jolly Robin laughed, because Willie had made such a funny mistake.

"You're wrong!" he said. "In fact, I've been wanting to talk with you
about that very thing. I want you to change your song, which is a very
annoying one. It's altogether too disagreeable. I'll teach you my
'_Cheerily-cheerup_' song. You'll like it much better, I think. And
I'm sure all your neighbors will.... Why not learn the new song right
now?" Jolly asked.

But Willie Whip-poor-will made no answer. Looking at him more closely,
Jolly Robin was amazed to see that he was sound asleep.

"Here, wake up!" Jolly cried, as he nudged Willie under a wing.

Again Willie Whip-poor-will sprang up with a bewildered expression.

"Hullo!" he said. "What's the trouble? Did a tree fall?"

"You went to sleep while I was talking to you," Jolly Robin
explained.

"Oh!" said Willie Whip-poor-will. "That doesn't matter. You must be
used to that." And the words were scarcely out of his mouth before he
had fallen asleep again.

Jolly Robin looked at him in a puzzled way. He didn't see how he could
teach Willie his "_Cheerily-cheerup_" song unless he could keep him
awake. But he thought he ought to try; so he gave Willie a sharp tweak
with his bill.

"Did you hear what I said about your singing?" he shouted right in
Willie's ear.

Willie Whip-poor-will only murmured sleepily:

"It's rheumatism. I just felt a twinge of it."

He had no idea what Jolly Robin was talking about.



XXII

SHOCKING MANNERS


Jolly Robin tried his best to rouse Willie Whip-poor-will out of his
daytime nap. But he had to admit to himself at last that his efforts
were in vain. It was plain that Willie was too sleepy to understand
what was said to him. And as for his learning a new song when he was
in that condition, that was entirely out of the question.

"I'll have to wait till sunset," Jolly Robin sighed at last. "That's
the time that Willie always wakes up and begins to sing.... I'll come
back here late this afternoon."

So he left the woods; and he was busy every moment all the rest of
the day.

Shortly before sunset Jolly Robin went back to the place in the woods
where he had left Willie Whip-poor-will sleeping. But Willie was no
longer there. He had left only a few minutes before Jolly's arrival.
And as Jolly sat on a low branch of a tree and looked all around, just
as the sun dropped behind the mountain, a voice began singing from
some point deeper in the woods. "_Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!_"
That was the way the song went.

"There's Willie now!" Jolly Robin exclaimed. And he flew off at once
to find his night-prowling friend. He knew that Willie Whip-poor-will
was some distance away, because he couldn't hear the low "_chuck!_"
with which Willie always began his song, as a sort of warning that he
was going to sing, and that nobody could stop him.

Jolly had a good deal of trouble finding the singer, because Willie
Whip-poor-will didn't stay in one place. Between his bursts of song he
coursed about hunting for insects, which he caught as he flew. So it
was not surprising that Jolly did not come upon him until it had grown
almost dark in the woods.

"Hullo!" said Willie as soon as he saw Jolly Robin. "I haven't seen
you for a long time."

Jolly Robin laughed merrily.

"Don't you remember my calling on you about noon to-day?" he asked.

"You must be mistaken," Willie Whip-poor-will replied. "I've been
asleep since sunrise--until a little while ago. And nobody came to see
me."

"You've forgotten," said Jolly. "But it's no matter. I can talk to you
now just as well. I want to speak to you about your singing." Jolly
paused then; and he yawned widely, for it was his bed-time that very
moment.

"Talk fast, please!" said Willie Whip-poor-will. "I haven't finished
my breakfast yet. And I'm pretty hungry."

It seemed queer, to Jolly Robin, that anyone should be eating his
breakfast right after sunset. And he was about to say something about
the matter. But just as he opened his mouth to speak he yawned again.
And then, without realizing what he was doing, he tucked his head
under his wing and fell asleep on the limb of the cedar tree where he
was sitting.

Willie Whip-poor-will looked at him in astonishment.

"What shocking manners!" he exclaimed. "He went to sleep while we were
talking. But I suppose he knows no better."

Willie would have liked to know what Jolly Robin was going to say
about his singing. But he was so hungry that he left Jolly asleep upon
his perch and hurried off to look for more insects.

Since it was a moonlight night, Willie Whip-poor-will spent all the
time until sunrise in hunting for food. Now and then he stopped to
rest and sing his queer song, which Jolly Robin did not like.

But Jolly Robin slept so soundly that for once Willie's singing never
disturbed him at all.



XXIII

A COLD GREETING


When Jolly Robin awoke a little before dawn, after his night in the
woods, he did not know at first where he was.

Now, it happened that just as he was awaking in the cedar tree, Willie
Whip-poor-will was going to sleep on the ground right beneath him. So
when Jolly at last looked down and spied his friend, he remembered
what had happened.

"My goodness!" he said with a nervous laugh. "I fell asleep here last
night! And I wonder what my wife will say when I get home." He would
have liked to try to rouse Willie Whip-poor-will and speak to him
about learning the new song. But he was so uneasy on account of what
his wife might say about his having stayed away from home all night
that he flew away as fast as he could go.

It was exactly as he had feared. When he reached his house in the
orchard his wife greeted him quite coldly. In fact, she hardly spoke
to him at all. And when Jolly told her, with a good many chuckles,
what a joke he had played on himself--falling asleep as he had, while
making a call upon Willie Whip-poor-will--she did not even smile.

"I should think you would be ashamed of yourself," she told him.
"Willie Whip-poor-will is a good-for-nothing rascal. Everybody talks
about the way he prowls through the woods all night and seldom goes to
bed before morning. And his wife is no better than he is. They're too
shiftless even to build themselves a nest. Mrs. Whip-poor-will leaves
her eggs on the ground. And that's enough to know about _her_.

"If you like to spend your time with such trash you'd better go over
to the woods and live," Mrs. Robin said. And then she turned her back
on her husband and set to work to clean her nest.

Jolly and his wife happened to have five small children at the time.
They were so young that they had never left home, not having learned
to fly. And they were all clamoring for their breakfast.

Thinking to please his wife, Jolly Robin went off and began gathering
angleworms for the youngsters. But when he brought them home his wife
told him that he had better eat them himself.

"I am quite able to feed my own children without any help from a
person who doesn't come home until after daybreak," she said.

And she acted like that for two whole days. Naturally, Jolly Robin
felt very uncomfortable during that time. And ever afterward he took
good care to have nothing to do with Willie Whip-poor-will.

He did wish, however, that Willie would learn a new song. For Jolly
disliked more than ever to hear that "_Whip-poor-will!
Whip-poor-will!_" repeated over and over again. It always reminded him
of the time he made his wife angry by spending the night away from
home.

THE END





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