"I only sing my 'Dry Weather' song when the weather is dry!" answered Robert Robin. "Still I would do almost anything to make this rain stop coming down!"

So Robert Robin flew up to the top of his big ba.s.swood tree to sing his "Dry Weather" song, in the rain.

Mister Jim Crow was sitting in his tall hemlock tree. He was wishing that the rain would stop falling, for he was as wet as water could make him. From over the tops of the tall forest trees came the sound of Robert Robin singing his "Dry Weather" song:

"Dry up the crick!

Dry up the crick!

Dry up the beetles!

Dry up the beetles!

Dry up the crick!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Jim Crow. "That funny Robert Robin is singing his 'Dry Weather' song! He is saying 'dry up the crick!'--he means 'creek'

of course, but could anything be funnier than that wet bird sitting in the rain, and singing about dry weather? The creek is roaring down through the sheep pasture, like a yellow river! 'Dry up the crick!' Ha!

Ha! Ha!" and Jim Crow laughed so hard that he forgot all about being wet.

"Dry up the crick!" screamed Robert Robin over and over again, until he was too tired to sing any more. Then he perched near Mrs. Robin and said, "I sang it seven times, but the rain is coming down harder than ever!"

"Well! You did your best, dear!" said Mrs. Robin. "It isn't your fault if it rains," and she could smell his feathers, they were so wet.

Suddenly the sky grew lighter, and with a roar that shook the earth a mighty wind swept through the woods; the clouds began to break away; the blue sky shone in patches between the torn clouds, and the rain was over.

No more rain fell, but all that night the fierce wind raved and roared, and when the sun came up in the east once more, the fierce gusts were whipping the branches of the elms, and twisting the tops of the tall pines, but Robert Robin's big ba.s.swood tree stood on the northeast side of the forest, so that the wind scarcely touched it.

During the night four little baby robins had pecked their way out of the blue eggs, and when daylight came, Mrs. Robin had cleared the nest of broken sh.e.l.ls and was covering her babies with her warm feathers. Robert Robin was sitting on the big branch close by. He was oiling and arranging his feathers with great care.

"You _did_ make it stop raining, didn't you, dear?" said Mrs. Robin.

"I must admit that strange things happen!" said Robert Robin, as he lifted a feather and oiled it on the under side.

"I have a little surprise for you!" said Mrs. Robin.

Robert Robin looked, and as Mrs. Robin stood up, he saw four little baby robins. The four little baby robins looked at him and opened their mouths just as wide as they could.

"Why didn't you tell me they were here?" he said. "The poor little dears are almost starved!" and away he flew in a great rush to get them some breakfast. In a few moments he was back again and fed one of them. Then away he hurried again and in a moment he came carrying more food for the babies, but the babies looked so nearly alike that Robert Robin fed the same one twice, and that made Mrs. Robin laugh.

"Men are such blunderbusses!" she said.

"Why don't you have your children marked so one can tell them apart?" he said.

"I will place little Elizabeth at the north side of the nest, little Sheldon at the east, Montgomery at the south, and Evelina at the west!"

All day long Robert Robin did nothing except carry food for the baby robins, but the next day Mrs. Robin helped him, and both of them were busy, for the four little baby robins were very hungry. They never did seem to get enough to eat.

"The children have wonderful appet.i.tes!" said Mrs. Robin.

"They are simply ravenous!" said Robert Robin.

"What does 'ravenous' mean?" asked Mrs. Robin.

"Ravenous means as hungry as a wolf!" answered Robert Robin. "I wish that the cherries would hurry and get ripe!"

"Do wolves eat cherries?" asked Mrs. Robin.

"I do not know!" said Robert Robin, "but I do know that ripe red cherries are good for baby robins, and ever so much easier to find than bugs and worms!"

"Green cherries make them sick! We must be very careful not to feed our babies any green cherries!"

"I know where there is an early cherry tree!" said Robert Robin, "and I am going right over there now and see if any of the early cherries are ripe!"

So Mrs. Robin waited by their nest while Robert Robin went over to see about the early cherries.

The early cherry tree grew in Widow Blunt's back yard. Widow Blunt's father had planted it, and it was the very earliest cherry tree in all the neighborhood.

When Robert Robin came in sight of it he saw the bright red fruit shining among the green leaves. The early cherries were ripe, and Robert Robin was the first to find them.

In a few moments Robert Robin stood beside his own nest with a bright red cherry in his mouth.

"Be sure to pop the pits, children!" said Mrs. Robin, and after the little robin had swallowed the cherry, the cherry pit came popping from his mouth and rattled down to the ground.

Many times that day Robert Robin and Mrs. Robert Robin went back and forth between their nest and Widow Blunt's early cherry tree, but in the afternoon, Widow Blunt was out in her garden when she saw a red-breasted robin picking her cherries.

"Oh! You cute robin red-breast!" she called. "You are after my cherries, but you will have to wait until I have picked all that I want for my own use, before you get any more!"

Widow Blunt went into her house, and brought out her stepladder. Then she went into her parlor and got a big stuffed owl off the mantel. The owl was one that Mister Blunt had shot, and a friend of his had stuffed its skin and put in great gla.s.s eyes that would scare almost anything.

The owl looked just as if he were going to spring right at you.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Both of them were scared almost out of their wits.

(Page 37) (Exciting Adventures of Mr. Robert Robin)]

Widow Blunt took the owl up the stepladder with her, and tied it fast in the cherry tree, then she went back into her house and looked out through the kitchen window.

She had not waited long before Robert Robin came to get another cherry.

He perched on a limb and was picking out a nice red ripe one to take home to Elizabeth when he saw something shine. It was the stuffed owl's gla.s.s eye.

Robert Robin saw the big fierce owl so close to him that he was so frightened he dropped the cherry and screamed, "Help! Help!" and almost fell out of the tree, and just then Mrs. Robin came and almost sat right beside the big owl, and she screamed, "Help! Help!" and almost fell out of the tree, and both of them were scared almost out of their wits, and they flew over to the harvest apple tree and Robert Robin said, "Tut!

Tut! Tut!--Tut! Tut! Tut!" and every time he said, "Tut!" he jerked his tail.

Widow Blunt sat in her splint-bottomed chair by her kitchen window and laughed and laughed, and laughed. "That poor robin thought he was a goner!" she said to herself. "That old owl is good for something, after all!"

Widow Blunt's full-blooded Plymouth Rock Rooster came around the house with four hens. He was going to show the hens where the cherries were falling on the ground. One of the hens saw the big owl sitting in the cherry tree.

"See that terrible bird in the tree!" she said. Mister Rooster looked up and saw Mister Sparrow sitting in the English currant bush.

"I could eat four birds like that one!" said the rooster.

"You are very brave!" said the hen, "but something tells me that I do not care for cherries to-day!" and the hen started running for the barn.

Just then Mister Rooster saw the big owl.