"The trouble with this Cricket is that he won't jump," he told his father. "I can't tell where he is, because he keeps still whenever I move. But when the light's out and everything's quiet he makes a terrible noise."

"That's a trick Crickets have," Farmer Green observed. "And I must say that if I were a Cricket I'd act the same way."

Of course Chirpy Cricket heard everything that was said. And he couldn't help thinking that Farmer Green was a very sensible person. "I dare say he'd be a famous fiddler if he belonged to our family," Chirpy told himself. And for a moment or two he was tempted to play a tune for Farmer Green. But he thought better of the notion at once. He remembered that Farmer Green had climbed the stairs to hunt for him. And Chirpy squeezed himself further into the crack where he was hiding until he was so huddled up that he couldn't have fiddled if he had wanted to.

Though they looked carefully, neither Johnnie nor his father could find him. And at last they had to admit that it was useless to search any longer.

"What shall I do?" Johnnie wailed. "As soon as I put out the light and get into bed he'll begin chirping again."

"In such cases," Farmer Green answered wisely, "there's only one thing to do."

"What's that?" Johnnie inquired hopefully.

"All you can do," said Farmer Green, "is to come downstairs and have something to eat."

Now, that may seem a strange remedy. But somehow it just suited Johnnie Green. He pattered barefooted down the stairs. And later, when he went to bed again, and Chirpy Cricket began to chirp once more, all Johnnie Green said was this:

"Sing away--little Tommy Tucker! You may not know it, but you sang for my supper!"

And the next moment, Johnnie Green was sound asleep.

IX

AN INTERRUPTED NAP

Chirpy Cricket liked his home in Farmer Green's yard. During the long summer days he thought it very cheerful to rest in his dark hole in the ground. He liked the darkness of his home; he liked its warmth, too. For in pleasant weather the sun beat down upon the straw-littered ground above him and gave him plenty of heat, while on gray days the straw blanket kept his house cosy. And it never occurred to Chirpy Cricket that there was anything odd in having a blanket over his house instead of over himself.

Nothing ever really disturbed Chirpy Cricket after he settled in the farmyard. To be sure, he had a few frights at first. Now and then the earth trembled in a terrible fashion. But that happened only when Johnnie Green led old Ebenezer, or some other horse, to the watering-trough, pa.s.sing right over Chirpy's home. And Chirpy had soon learned that he was in no danger.

Then at other times he heard an odd tearing and scratching, as if some giant had discovered Chirpy's doorway and meant to dig him out of his hiding place. By peeping slyly out he discovered at last the cause of those fearful sounds. It was only the hens looking for something to eat--a bit of grain amid the straw, or perhaps an angleworm. Chirpy never left his house when he heard the hens at work. He had no wish to offer himself as a tidbit. And he felt quite safe down in his home, for he was quick to learn that the hens were no diggers. They could only scratch the surface of the ground. So, in time, he used to laugh when he heard them.

And now and then he would even fiddle a bit, as if to say to them, "Here I am! Come and get me if you can!"

The sound of fiddling, coming from beneath their feet, always puzzled the hens. They would stop scratching and c.o.c.k their heads on one side, to listen. And they tried to look very knowing. But they were really the most stupid of all the creatures in the farmyard. If they had only been as wise as Farmer Green's cat they would have kept still and waited and watched. And sooner or later they would have given Chirpy Cricket the surprise of his life, when he came crawling out of his hole to get a few blades of gra.s.s for his supper.

But even if the hens had thought of such a plan they never could have kept their minds upon it long enough to carry it out. So perhaps it was no wonder that Chirpy Cricket got the idea into his head that he was safe from everybody. Sometimes, when he was dozing, even the footsteps of old Ebenezer failed to rouse him.

But there came a day when Chirpy Cricket awoke with a great start.

Something had touched his long feelers. Something had come right down into his hole and was prodding him.

He thought it must be a hen. And he did not laugh. No! Nor did he fiddle!

X

CAUGHT!

Whatever or whoever it was that had entered Chirpy Cricket's home--the hole in the ground near Farmer Green's barn--it caused him a terrible fright. It kept poking him in a most alarming fashion. Chirpy couldn't move away from it, for his home was only big enough for himself alone.

And since he didn't care to share it with another, he soon made up his mind that there was only one thing for him to do. He would quit his house for the time being, with the hope of finding it empty later. Indeed Chirpy Cricket thought he would be lucky to escape in safety. So he scrambled up into the daylight, to be greeted with a shout and a pounce, both at the same time. And Chirpy Cricket saw, too late, that it was a creature much bigger than a hen that had captured him. It was Johnnie Green!

Of course Johnnie himself had not entered Chirpy's underground home. What he had done was merely to run a straw into the hole where Chirpy lived and prod him with it until he came out.

"Aha!" said Johnnie Green as he looked at his prisoner, whom he held gingerly between a finger and a thumb. "Are you the rascal that keeps me awake at night with your everlasting noise?"

Chirpy Cricket never said a word.

"You make racket enough every night," Johnnie told him. "Can't you answer now when you're spoken to?"

Still Chirpy Cricket made no reply. He waved his feelers frantically and tried to jump out of Johnnie Green's grasp. But no matter how fast he moved his six legs, he couldn't get away.

"You don't seem to like me," said his captor finally. "You don't act as if you wanted to play with me.... What will you do for me if I let you go?"

But not a word did Chirpy Cricket say--not one single word!

"You're a queer one," Johnnie Green told him. "You might fiddle for me, at least--though I must say I don't care for the tune you always play. I can get better music out of a cornstalk fiddle than I've ever heard from you or any of your family."

Then, very carefully, Johnnie set Chirpy Cricket on the ground, with both his hands cupped closely over him, so he couldn't jump away.

"Now, fiddle!" Johnnie Green cried. "Fiddle just once and I'll let you go."

Though Johnnie Green waited patiently for what seemed to him a long time, he heard nothing that sounded the least bit like fiddling. So at last he peeped between two fingers to see what the fiddler was doing. But Johnnie Green couldn't see him. Little by little he lifted his hands. And to his great surprise there was nothing under them but gra.s.s--and beneath the gra.s.s a crack in the earth.

"Well! You're a sly one!" Johnnie Green exclaimed. "You've crawled into that crack. And you may stay there, too, for all I care." Johnnie jumped to his feet and moved away. And not until he had been gone some time did Chirpy Cricket make a sound. Then he played a few notes on his fiddle, just to see that it hadn't been harmed.

XI

A QUEER, NEW COUSIN

Chirpy Cricket was so fond of fiddling that sometimes he was the last of all the big Cricket family to stop making music and go home to bed. Now and then he lingered so long above the ground that the dawn caught him before he crept into his hole in the ground, beneath the straw. And one morning it was getting so light before he had played enough to suit him that he crawled into a crack in Farmer Green's garden. It looked like a comfortable place to spend the day. And he thought it would be foolish for him to do much travelling at that hour, because there was no telling when an early bird might spy--and pounce upon--him.

He found his retreat quite to his liking. Nothing had happened to disturb his rest. And if he had only had time to carry a few blades of gra.s.s into the crack, to eat between naps, Chirpy would have had nothing to wish for.

Late in the afternoon, however, a most unusual thing took place. Chirpy Cricket noticed a sound as of some one digging. It grew louder and louder as he listened. And it was not in the least like the scratching of a hen, looking for grubs and worms. This noise was deep down in the ground and like nothing Chirpy had ever heard.

He wished that he had not allowed himself to become so fond of fiddling.

If he had cared less for it, he would have gone home in good season. But there he was in a crack in the garden! And he didn't dare leave it because he had heard that the garden was a famous place for birds.

Chirpy Cricket was frightened. And when at last the loose earth near him began to quiver and even to crumble he was so scared that he didn't know which way to move. The next instant a strange looking person stood before him. And for a few moments neither one of them said a word.