Part 9 (1/2)

”I live for the most part on seeds and grain,” he said. ”So you see I'm quite harmless.”

Chirpy Cricket told him that he was glad to know it.

”I'm a vegetarian myself,” he added proudly, ”for I eat blades of gra.s.s.

And you see I'm harmless too.”

Mr. Meadow Mouse bestowed another fat smile on him.

”Then,” he said, ”it must be quite safe for me to stay here and talk with you.”

Chirpy Cricket didn't know why the plump gentleman was smiling, unless it was because he felt easy in his mind. Chirpy couldn't help liking him, he was so friendly.

”I'll play my favorite tune for you, if you wish,” Chirpy offered, being eager to do something pleasant for his new acquaintance.

”Do!” said Mr. Meadow Mouse. ”And make it as lively as you please. For I've just dined well and I'm in a very cheerful mood.”

So Chirpy Cricket began his _cr-r-r-i!_ _cr-r-r-i! cr-r-r-i!_ while Mr.

Meadow Mouse moved nearer and watched him closely. After a time he began to fidget. And at last he asked Chirpy if he wouldn't please be still for a moment, because there was something he wanted to say.

Chirpy stopped fiddling.

”I notice,” said Mr. Meadow Mouse, ”that you're having some trouble tuning up your fiddle. So if you don't mind I'll go over in the cornfield on a matter of business and come back here later. Then, no doubt, you'll be all ready to play a tune for me.”

Chirpy Cricket had to explain that he had been playing a tune all the time--that he always played on one note.

So Mr. Meadow Mouse stayed and heard more of the fiddling. He begged Chirpy's pardon for his mistake. And he said that if he only had a fiddle he should like to learn the same tune himself. ”Although,” he added, ”it must be very difficult to play always on the same note. It must take a great deal of practice.”

XXIII

A WAIL IN THE DARK

There was an odd cry that often interrupted the nightly concerts of the Cricket family. Chirpy Cricket had never heard it in the daytime. But when twilight began to wrap Pleasant Valley in its shadows, the strange, wailing call was almost sure to come quavering through the air. Somehow it always sent a s.h.i.+ver over Chirpy. And sometimes it made him lose a few notes--if he happened to be fiddling when he heard it.

He learned that it was a dangerous bird known as Simon Screecher--a cousin of Solomon Owl--that made this uncanny call. If he had lived, like Solomon, across the meadow in the hemlock woods, Chirpy Cricket would have paid less heed to the noise he made. But Simon Screecher had his home in a hollow apple tree in Farmer Green's orchard.

It was said--by those that claimed to know--that Simon Screecher slept in the daytime. But every tiny night-creature--the Katydids and the Crickets and all the rest--knew that after sunset Simon Screecher was as wide awake as anybody.

It was no wonder that Chirpy Cricket was always uneasy when Simon screeched his warning that he was awake and looking for his supper.

Chirpy knew that he could not depend on Simon to stay long in one place.

Though you heard his screech in the orchard one moment, you might see him in the farmyard soon afterward. He never ate a whole meal in just one spot, but preferred to move about wherever his fancy took him. Simon himself said that he could eat off and on all night long, if he kept moving.

Somehow Mr. Meadow Mouse had heard of this saying of Simon Screecher's.

”You ought to crawl into your hole under the straw whenever Simon Screecher is about the neighborhood,” he advised Chirpy one evening, when the two chanced to meet near the fence.