_The Golden-Rod was sprinkling
Fresh perfume on the air,
And the little Milk-weed fairies
Were flying everywhere.
The blackberries were ripening in
The splendid August sun!
Said Buddy Jim, "I'm sure there'll be
Enough for everyone."_
"Enough of what?" asked Old Bob the gardener, who happened to be
passing the porch just that minute.
"O, good morning, Bob," said Buddy, running to meet the old gardener;
they were great friends. "Enough blackberries for all of us, is what I
meant. For us and the birds too."
"Guess there will be," said Old Bob the gardener, "never did see such
a blackbr'y crop as there is this year. Are you thinking of going
blackberryin'?"
"Mary the cook said that if I would go and get some that she would make
me some jam to have for my breakfasts next winter, with my own name on
the labels," said Buddy. "So I'm going to get them today before they
ripen too much."
[Illustration: There were really wild Animals in the Forest!]
"Well, Buddy," said Old Bob the gardener, "if you are going into that
blackbr'y bramble you'd better put on your shoes and stockings, unless
you want to get your feet and legs scratched."
"I'll take them along," said Buddy, "and put them on after I get there.
It is so much fun to go barefoot in the dewy grass."
So, after getting a shiny new tin pail from Mary the cook, Buddy
tied his shoes together by the strings, and hung them around his
neck, whistled to Old Dog Sandy, and went across the fields of late
clover where the big bumblebees were busy, to the hillside where the
blackberries grew.
Such a tangle of bushes as he found there; and all simply _loaded_ with
great ripe berries.
Buddy Jim sat down on a fallen log and put on his shoes and stockings,
while Old Dog Sandy just nosed around. It was very pleasant up there,
Buddy Jim thought. He could look away down on the shining meadows,
where the little crooked river ran like a silver ribbon through the
green of the wild fields that ran out to the edge of the big woods.
There were very big fish in the river, so Bob the gardener had said,
and really wild animals in the forest. Bears and wolves even, and
deer. And on dark nights sometimes, Jack O' Lantern danced and swung
his light around. Old Bob the gardener had promised that Buddy should
go along with him and camp out some night while the men were cutting
the wild hay on the shining meadows. He wished he were going there
now. Now, this minute! Then he remembered that he had come to pick
blackberries.
Old Dog Sandy was not interested in the berries. So he started off by
himself to see what he could find. "Look out for old man Porcupine,"
called Buddy. Sandy looked foolish, and ran away. His mouth was still
sore at the corners, because he had sneaked away one day to settle an
old score with Prickly Porcupine; and he did not like to be reminded of
it.
It was fun to pick the berries, and although Buddy put one in his mouth
for every two that he put in the pail, he soon had the pail full. Then
he sat down to rest and wait for Old Dog Sandy to come back.
At first there was no noise at all, except the Katy-dids' quarrelling
with each other, and then making up again, and the song of the locusts,
but presently Buddy became aware of other voices.
"O-dear-O-dear," chattered a small somebody, "it is just as I expected,
all the nicest berries are gone! You would loiter so, children, wasting
our time on hazel-nuts that won't be ready to eat for a month yet."
"Now never mind, never mind, Mother," said a second small voice, "I'm
sure we shall find enough ripe berries for our lunch. Here is a nice
big one now, just full of seeds."
"The best thing about blackberries," said the first voice, "is that
they are both food and drink."
"Oo--oo--ee--ee," shouted another little voice. "What luck! Somebody
has picked a lot of berries and put them in a dish for us, and left
them here. Come quickly, Sister, come quickly!"
"Now they've found my pail full of berries," said Buddy. "Children,
Children!" called the Mother voice, "don't touch those. It may be a
trap!"
"You must _never_ touch anything that has the Man smell about it," said
their father.
Very softly, so as not to frighten away those who were making so free
with his blackberries, Buddy turned around. And there was Father and
Mother and Sister and Brother Gray Squirrel.
They certainly looked funny, with their eager little faces all stained
with blackberry juice. Buddy just couldn't help it. He laughed right
out loud.
Then they saw him, and as quick as a wink there wasn't a squirrel in
sight. They had all whisked like little gray streaks up in the branches
of an old birch tree.
But squirrels are such curious little people that they just had to
peep, to see who and what was down below them. And Buddy Jim, knowing
that they would be back presently, stretched out on the ground and lay
very still.
"He seems to be harmless," said Father Squirrel. "He does indeed," said
Mother Gray Squirrel. "He _is_ harmless," said Brother Gray Squirrel,
"and what is better he is kind. He is the boy who made the nest for
Flying Squirrel's family in the barn at haying time. I'm not afraid
of him. I'm going down and get my lunch." "So am I," said Sister Gray
Squirrel. And they both slid down head first, on the trunk of the big
old birch tree. "Help yourselves, Little Neighbors," said Buddy softly.
"I won't look. I can gather some more."
With little squeals of joy Sister Gray Squirrel and Brother Gray
Squirrel stood up on their haunches and reached their little paws into
the pail of berries, and ate and ate. Then they filled their pockets
full and the juice all ran down on their little gray dresses, but they
didn't care, and then they ran up the big birch tree to take some to
Father and Mother. They were just in time, too, for Old Dog Sandy came
trotting back and barked at them.
"I'm glad you are safely back," said Mother Gray Squirrel, "for while
you may be able to trust _some_ people, you certainly can not trust
dogs and cats."
Buddy laughed. "See what a bad opinion folks have of you, Old Dog
Sandy," said he, as he filled his pail again.
When he took the berries to Mary the cook, she said, "Your lunch is all
cold, Buddy. Didn't you hear the horn?"
"Yes, I heard it," said Buddy. "But I had to pick some more berries.
Some little gray tramps ate part of what I had gathered."
"Tramps!" said Mary the cook. "_We_ don't allow tramps here on this
farm. You'd better speak to Old Bob the gardener about it."
Buddy Jim smiled. He knew Old Bob the gardener would never object to
_his_ little gray tramps!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]