Never did trout, cookies, and maple sugar disappear so quickly; never
were such appetites; never such laughing, and such interesting stories
told by the guide.
"Hush!" said Ben Gile. "Do you hear that?"
"Yes," cried Peter.
"What is it?"
"It's a katydid," said Betty, "over there."
"Listen, children, what does it say?"
"It says, 'Chic-a-chee, chic-a-chee,' over and over again," answered
Jack.
"Pooh," interrupted Jimmie, "it says, 'Katy did, Katy didn't!'"
"It says, 'Katy broke a china plate; yes, she did; no, she didn't,'"
called Betty.
"Yes, she did; no, she didn't!" the children shouted, merrily, together.
"Well," said the old man, "anyway, it's all about what Katy did do and
what Katy didn't do. Probably Mr. Katy, like other good husbands in the
world, is singing of the wonderful things Katy did do and the naughty
things she didn't do. That is Mr. Katy's love-song. Ah, he finds Mrs.
Katy very charming--her beautiful wings, her gracefully waving antennæ,
her knowing, shining eyes! Now, listen again. Katydid carries its
musical instrument at the base of its wing cover. On each side is a tiny
membrane and a strong vein. When the wing covers are rubbed together the
membrane speaks, and you hear--"
"Katy did, Katy didn't!" shouted the children.
"Do you think you know where they are? Well, take these lanterns"--the
guide had lighted half a dozen--"and find them."
The children scurried off, certain of a quick victory. In the woods
about the cabin you could hear them shouting: "It's here!" "No, it
isn't!" "Where is it?"
"A will-o'-the-wisp," murmured the old man; "may they never have a
harder one to find!"
By-and-by the children came trotting back. They couldn't find the
katydid in any place, and they had looked everywhere.
[Illustration:
_A._ Eggs of the katydid.
_B._ A katydid.
_C._ Leg, showing katydid's ear.
_D._ Musical instrument at base of wings.]
"Couldn't? How did you look?" He took one of the lanterns, went to a
near-by tree, and held the lantern close to the leaves. "Here it is!
Why, it's a great fellow!"
The children trooped into the cabin after him, crowding to look at the
katydid.
"I thought they were brown," said Hope.
"So did I," echoed Betty.
"See, you can't tell this fellow from the leaf, it is such a bright,
fresh green. Woe to the katydid if it were anything but this bright
green! Just think how easily the birds would find them. What nice salad
Katy would make for a young robin!"
"Do the birds eat katydids?" asked the children, in surprise.
"Oh yes, and they haven't any stated luncheon or supper time for doing
it. They are very informal. One time is as good as another, and the
oftener the merrier. If Katy doesn't keep very quiet and demure, like
her leafy background, whist! and Father Robin or Mother Bluebird has a
meal for the youngsters."
"Is that why it doesn't sing by day?" asked Peter.
"They wait till the birds go to bed, I suppose. See what a comical look
this fellow has, waving its long, fine, silky antennæ about. Probably
it's trying to find out what it is on, looking out for another nice
green leaf to eat. They do a lot of damage eating leaves from the
trees."
"What's that?" asked Betty, pointing to the edge of a leaf.
"Well, you have sharp eyes," said the old man. "Mrs. Katydid has laid
her eggs there. See, the eggs are rounded and flattened, and each egg
laps a little over the one in front of it. Once another man saw a row of
katydid eggs laid as neatly as could be on the edge of a clean linen
collar. I'll keep these eggs; then, in the spring, the young ones will
hatch out. They will grow and shed their skins from time to time, just
the way the locusts do. Ah, they leave so many old clothes about that
they need an old clothes man! I wish I could tell you about the katydid
I knew once upon a time who spent her days collecting old clothes, and
how she made a fortune selling them to--"
Ben Gile paused and sighed deeply.
"Selling them to what?" shouted the children.
"I can't tell that to you," replied the old man, shaking his head sadly.
"It's the story of 'How Katy Did.' I have to be very careful, for Mr.
John Burroughs, who is a wiser old man than I am, says I mustn't. Lately
the scientists almost killed one man I know, and a good, clever, useful
man, for telling that story--very savage, very savage."
The children began to look troubled. "Will Mr. Burroughs hurt us?"
inquired Hope. "My papa would--"
"No, no, child, you're too small. He likes something big, and he's
especially fond of the Big Stick."
"Is that what he does his beating with?" Jack's eyes were frightened.
"He hunts with the Big Stick," answered the guide. "Dear me, where are
we? It's half-past eight, and you children should have been in bed this
time long, long ago. Hurry! Skip! Get the lanterns or we'll all be
scolded."
And they scampered for the village, the guide driving them before him,
and all the lights waving to and fro like so many crazy fireflies.