_The cobwebs were a-glistening,
Dew-spangled, all about;
As though the fairy folk had spread
Their dainty washing out;
The wild rose wore her pinkest gown,
And saucy old Blue-Jay
Called out for all the world to hear,
"Strawberries are ripe today!"_
"That's so, Mr. Blue-Jay," said Old Bob the gardener, as he came by the
place where Buddy Jim was weeding his vegetable garden, "that's so;
wild ones too, and I only wish I had time to go and gather some."
"Why, Bob," said Buddy Jim. "Are wild strawberries any better than the
big ones that you grow in the garden?"
"Better!" exclaimed Old Bob the gardener, "better! Well I should
_think_ so! _Wild_ strawberries are the sweetest things that grow! Only
wish that I were going to have some for my breakfast tomorrow morning."
"Well, you're going to have some," said Buddy Jim, "if you will tell me
where they grow, for I'll go and get enough for us both, and we'll eat
breakfast right out here on the porch, together!"
"Do you see that open patch of ground off yonder in the far field?"
asked Old Bob the gardener. "Well, that's where they grow; around the
edge of the old stone wall is where the best ones will be."
"I like to pick berries," said Buddy Jim. "I'll ask Mary to let me have
a pail to put them in, and go right away to get them."
"The dew will be nicely dried up before you get over there," said Old
Bob the gardener, "and it will be fine picking; if I were not so busy
I'd go with you."
Mary had a pail, all nice and shiny, which used to hold lard, and she
was very glad to lend it to Buddy Jim, who first ran to tell Mother
goodbye, and then, whistling to Old Dog Sandy to come along, was off
across the fields.
It was a very pleasant run across the dewy meadows and they met no one
at all except Mrs. Black Garter Snake who was out looking for breakfast
for herself and children, and it was not very long before they came to
the place where the berries were, and Buddy Jim began to pick them.
They were so large and plentiful that he soon had his pail full. He
covered them from the heat of the sun with a big burdock leaf which he
picked from the side of the stone wall, and putting them aside he began
picking some to eat.
Then he thought he would rest before going home, so he stretched out on
his back and fell fast asleep and dreamed that he was afloat on a calm,
blue ocean in a little white boat, surrounded by mermen and maidens.
Suddenly he was awakened by Old Dog Sandy who was barking furiously.
"Now I wonder what's the matter with Sandy?" said he to himself,
running as fast as he could go in the direction of the sounds. "That
isn't a fun bark; that's a business bark!"
He found Old Dog Sandy doing his best to climb a big hawthorn tree
that grew near the side of the old stone wall, all the time barking as
loudly as he could. He was not succeeding very well in climbing the
tree, but he was sending a very earnest warning to whatever was in the
tree that it would be much better not to come down again, or something
would be sure to happen.
"What is it, Sandy?" asked Buddy Jim, but Old Dog Sandy was too busy to
pay attention to his little master, and besides, he wanted to attend to
this matter himself--the long, slim, brown, cruel _thing_ hidden among
the branches of the hawthorn tree really _needed_ a good _shaking_, and
he, Old Dog Sandy, was just the dog to give it to him.
So he paid no attention to his master, and did not answer, but a queer,
chuckling little voice from the top of the old stone wall _did_.
"It was Mrs. Weasel who ran up in the tree," said the chuckling little
voice. "She was determined that she would have one of my children for
lunch, and almost caught one, when your old dog came along and made her
stop. Goodness only knows what might have happened if he had not come
just at that moment."
"You're little Mrs. Bob White, aren't you?" asked Buddy Jim. "Why
didn't you and your children fly away or hide somewhere?"
"Why," said Mrs. Bob White, "my children cannot fly yet. They're
only about three weeks old, just little bits of chickens, and as
for _hiding_ from Mrs. Weasel or her young ones, it simply can't be
done--she is so slender she can go _anywhere_, and if we run away
from her we are likely to run right into the jaws of one of her young
ones--they hunt together you see, and they're almost sure to get one of
us--I don't know _what_ to do. I simply can't move away from here until
the children are older."
Buddy Jim thought a minute. It seemed as though there must be some way
to help the little mother. "I'll tell you," he said, "Sandy seems to
be very much interested in Mrs. Weasel, and I'm sure he will be glad
to run down here every day, and perhaps Mrs. Weasel will let you alone
when she sees that you have friends."
"O thank you, Neighbor," said little Mrs. Bob White. "That will be
_such_ a help!"
Just then came a clear call from across the fields. "Bob White, Bob
White, Bob, Bob White."
Instantly little Mrs. Bob White answered, "Ooo, ooh! _All_ right, Bob
White."
"That was Daddy calling to see if we were safe and happy," said the
little mother. "He always does that if he has to be away from home."
Just then came another call, "Hoo, oo, Hoo, oo." Buddy Jim laughed.
"That's Old Bob the gardener calling me home to lunch," said he, "so
goodbye, and the best of luck, Little Mother Quail."
"Get any berries?" asked Old Bob the gardener. "Lots," answered Buddy
Jim, "and I'll get some more tomorrow, because I'm going down again.
Old Dog Sandy wouldn't come home with me--he has a new job down in the
far field."
"What sort of a job?" asked Old Bob the gardener. He was always so
_interested_ in things.
"He is going to protect little Mrs. Bob White and her family from Mrs.
Weasel," said Buddy Jim.
"He has his work cut out for him then," said old Bob the gardener,
"because Mrs. Weasel is a very clever lady, and fond of small quail. If
she is working around here I think I'll set a trap in the chicken yard,
just as a hint to her to keep away from _our_ chickens."
"Would she dare to come up here?" asked Buddy Jim. "She would _so_,"
laughed Old Bob the gardener.
Buddy Jim sighed. "What makes Mrs. Weasel so cruel and dishonest, Bob?"
he asked.
"She isn't 'specially," answered the old man, "she has to get food for
her family, and that's her way of doing it."
"But she frightens little Mrs. Bob White so, and it seems so cruel,"
said the little boy, who wanted all his Little Neighbors to be happy.
"Yes, I know," said Old Bob the gardener, "but I have no doubt that the
bugs and caterpillars that little Mrs. Bob White catches feel quite the
same way about her, that _she_ does about Mrs. Weasel.
"Like to help me transplant some more plants before supper time?"
"Sure would," said Buddy Jim as he went to give Mother some wild
strawberries for her luncheon.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: It looked like a very tiny Air-plane]