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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 94 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.

95 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 96 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. 97

“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?” 98

“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 99 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.

100 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.” 101

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 102 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. 103 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 104 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 105 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.

106 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. 107

“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. 108

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. 109 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 110 out of his mouth before he had fallen asleep again.

Jolly Robin looked at him in a puzzled

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