Exciting Adventures of Mister Robert Robin
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Ben Field >> Exciting Adventures of Mister Robert Robin
Robert Robin was sitting in the top of one of the farmer's cherry trees,
thinking about the cherries that ought to be ripe when he saw a cat in
the farmer's garden.
It was a big Maltese cat. It was a pretty cat, but Mister Robert Robin
could not see anything pretty about a cat, and he did not like the
looks of this one.
"I never saw this cat before!" thought Robert Robin. "The farmer must
have a new cat! I hope it is a house-cat instead of a cat that goes
prowling around the fields and woods!"
The big Maltese cat went over to the strawberry bed and lay down on some
straw. Then the farmer's wife came into the garden, and there was a
little boy with her. He was her sister's boy, and he was going to spend
the summer at the farmer's home. The boy had a tin whistle, and once in
a while he would blow upon it. The farmer's wife was thinking to
herself, "After he goes to bed to-night, I am going to hide that whistle
where he can't find it!" But she did not say a word to the little boy
about the whistle.
The little boy saw the big Maltese cat lying on the strawberry bed, and
the little boy went up close to the cat and blew his tin whistle at the
cat. The big Maltese cat did not like to hear the whistle so close to
his ears; it made his ears hurt, so he said "Meow!" and started to walk
away, and the naughty little boy laughed, and blew the whistle with all
his might. Then the farmer's wife said: "Do not tease the kitty,
Donald!"
But Donald had not been taught to do as he was told, so he blew the
whistle again and again and chased the Maltese cat across the lettuce
bed, and over two rows of radishes.
The farmer's wife shouted, "Donald! Donald!" but Donald kept blowing the
tin whistle and following the Maltese cat, but the next thing he knew
the farmer's wife took his tin whistle away from him.
Donald was so angry that he jumped right up and down on the celery
plants, and the farmer's wife said, "Look here! Young man!" and shook
Donald until he looked like a jumping jack, and Donald was so surprised
to think that anyone would dare shake him that he stopped right where he
was, and then the farmer's wife said to him:
"Now, young man! You may as well know at the very start that if you want
to be a bad little boy you will have a tough row to hoe, but if you want
to mend your ways and be a nice little boy, things will be different! I
thought I might as well make that plain to you now as later!"
Then Donald wiped his eyes on the farmer's wife's apron, and helped her
weed two whole rows of carrots, and the big Maltese cat went to sleep
under the gooseberry bush, and Robert Robin flew back to the woods and
told Mrs. Robin that the farmer had a new cat and that the farmer's wife
had a new baby that didn't like cats.
CHAPTER III
ROBERT ROBIN AND WIDOW BLUNT'S STUFFED OWL
It was a dismal, rainy day. Long before morning, the storm had begun,
and when the faint light had at last dawned in the east, the rain still
pattered down on the leaves of Mister Robert Robin's big basswood tree,
and fell in great drops from their tips. Robert Robin did not like the
weather. He had not even sung his "Hurry up!" song, and the rain had
pelted down so furiously that his every feather was wet, and he was
soaked to his shivering skin.
Mrs. Robin was afraid that the raindrops would fall inside the nest and
wet the eggs, so she kept her wings spread out so far that her shoulders
ached.
"It is very uncomfortable, sitting in this cramped position!" she said
to Robert Robin. "I am afraid that I will get the rheumatism in my
joints!"
"Let me cover the eggs for you!" said Robert Robin.
"With your feathers all wet?" exclaimed Mrs. Robin. "I am trying to keep
the eggs dry and warm!"
"Let me try it once!" said Robert Robin.
"No! Thank you, dear! your intentions are good, but you are so clumsy
you would be almost sure to break one of the eggs, and to-day is the day
they will hatch!"
"I wish that it would stop raining!" said Robert Robin.
"Why not sing your 'Dry Weather' song?" asked Mrs. Robin. "The rain
might stop coming if it heard you singing your 'Dry Weather' song!"
"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 basswood 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 basswood 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 shells 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 appetites!" 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 glass eyes that would scare almost anything.
The owl looked just as if he were going to spring right at you.
[Illustration: 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
glass 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.
"Ca-daa-cut! Ca-daa-cut!" he screamed. "Run for your lives!" and the big
rooster was one of the first to get under the barn.
Widow Blunt rocked back and forth in her splint-bottomed chair and
laughed, and laughed, and laughed. "It is better than a vaudeville!" she
said.
Mister Samson Crow came flying over, and he saw the big owl sitting in
Widow Blunt's early cherry tree.
Samson Crow was very much surprised to see an owl sitting in a cherry
tree in the daytime, and he said to himself: "My eyes are fairly good,
and they tell me that a whole owl is sitting in that tree!" Then Samson
Crow flew down to where Robert Robin was saying, "Tut! Tut! Tut!" in the
harvest apple tree.
"I am very glad that you came, Mister Crow!" said Robert Robin. "Please
drive that ugly owl out of that cherry tree so that I may get some more
cherries for my baby robins!"
"That is what I am going to do!" said Samson Crow. "But what puzzles me
is why any owl would be sitting in a cherry tree right near a house, in
broad daylight! Why is he there, and what does he want?"
"I have no doubt but that he is after my cherries!" said Robert Robin.
"That is all I care to know about it!" said Samson Crow. "I will drive
him out of your tree this very minute!"
Samson Crow flew straight at the owl. The big owl glared at him with its
great glass eyes and never moved. "Caw! Caw!" screamed Samson Crow, but
the big owl sat perfectly still. Around and around the tree flew Samson
Crow, but the big owl sat perfectly still. Samson Crow perched on a
branch and shouted at the big owl, but the big owl did not even turn his
head, nor change the steady gaze of his great glass eyes. "Help! Help!"
screamed Samson Crow, and he flew away to the woods, and Widow Blunt
laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and rocked backwards and forwards in
her splint-bottomed chair.
Robert Robin kept waiting, and saying, "Tut! Tut! Tut!--Tut! Tut! Tut!"
and wishing that the big owl would fly away, but the big owl did not
move, and just stared straight ahead with his great glass eyes.
About four o'clock Widow Blunt put on her sunbonnet and her cotton
gloves with the fingers cut off, and with an eight-quart tin pail with
strips of zinc soldered across the bottom of it, she climbed the
stepladder and picked eight quarts of ripe red cherries from her early
cherry tree, and the big stuffed owl watched her with his great glass
eyes, and never said a word.
Then the Widow Blunt took her eight-quart pail full of ripe red cherries
into her kitchen and set it on the kitchen table, then she went back to
where her stepladder was standing under the cherry tree, and climbed her
stepladder once more and untied the stuffed owl, and put him under her
arm, and carried him back to her parlor and put him on the mantelpiece
and set the big glass dome over him, to keep the dust off.
Widow Blunt carried her stepladder back into her woodhouse, then she
hung her sunbonnet on a nail behind the kitchen door, and put her cotton
gloves in the secretary drawer, where she would know where to find them
when the berry-picking season came. Widow Blunt then looked out of the
kitchen window, and saw Robert Robin picking one of her ripe red
cherries. Then Widow Blunt sat down in her splint-bottomed chair by the
kitchen window and watched Robert Robin and Mrs. Robert Robin come and
pick her cherries.
"Those robins will not let any of my cherries go to waste," she said.
"But I suppose they have a large family to feed, and eight quarts is all
I need for myself!" And Widow Blunt rocked backwards and forwards in her
splint-bottomed chair and watched the robins, and the next thing she
knew the clock struck six and woke her up.
"Mercy! I went to sleep in my chair!" she said. "Now I will have to
hurry to get those cherries canned before dark!"
"Where did the big owl go?" asked Mrs. Robin of Robert Robin.
"A woman caught him and carried him away, but he ate many of the very
best cherries before she caught him!" said Mister Robert Robin.
CHAPTER IV
MISTER ROBERT ROBIN HAS AN ADVENTURE WITH THE FARMER'S MALTESE CAT
It was a beautiful morning. The sun had just lifted his bright face
above the eastern hills; the dew was still glistening on the leaves, and
Mister Robert Robin was perched in the very top of his big basswood tree
singing his "Sun-up" song.
He looked very handsome in his dark brown topcoat and his red vest, as
he finished singing his "Sun-up" song and looked around to see what he
could see.
From the meadow came the sound of Bob-o-link's "Spingle! Spangle!" song,
and David Songsparrow was singing his seven morning songs, and even
Jeremiah Yellowbird was doing his best to make his little voice ring
through the woods as Robert Robin's mellow notes had sounded a moment
before.
But Robert Robin was not listening to the other birds, he was looking to
see what he could see.
The fields were green, for rain had fallen the day before, and the
tangle of wild-rose bushes along the fence had burst into bloom. From
the high place where he sat, Robert Robin could see the pink blossoms,
and when the wind blew from their direction, he could smell the perfume
of the flowers.
The farmer's sheep were in their pasture, and the little lambs were
frisking and playing with each other. A pile of lumber lay near the
pasture gate, and the little lambs were running and jumping off the
lumber pile. They were having great fun, and Robert Robin felt like
laughing as he watched them.
Suddenly Robert Robin sat up very straight and jerked his tail up and
down three times and said, "Tut! Tut! Tut!" He saw the farmer's Maltese
cat walking along on the rail fence, and the cat was coming towards the
woods.
"I am afraid that big cat is coming over here!" said Robert Robin to
himself. Mrs. Robin heard Robert Robin saying, "Tut! Tut! Tut!" so she
came to see what was the matter.
"There is a big Maltese cat coming towards our tree!" said Robert Robin.
"Where is it?" asked Mrs. Robin, who was very much excited.
"On the rail fence!" said Robert Robin. "It is the same cat that I saw
in the farmer's garden!"
"That terrible cat will eat our baby robins!" said Mrs. Robin. "You must
fly right at him and scare him away!"
"Perhaps it would be better to wait and see if something doesn't
happen!" said Robert Robin.
The big cat did not seem to be in any hurry. He walked slowly along the
rail fence until he came to the brook. There were no rails across the
brook, only a panel of wire fencing--so the big cat sprang to the ground
and walked along the brook until he came to a place where the brook was
narrow, then the farmer's Maltese cat crouched and sprang across the
brook at one leap.
"He is surely coming to our woods!" said Mrs. Robin, and Robert Robin
was so frightened that all he could say was "Tut! Tut! Tut!"
The great cat tiptoed across the corner of the pasture, and crept under
the fence. He was now in the meadow next to the woods, and was walking
slowly towards Mister Robert Robin's tree. Every few moments he would
stand still and look all around. Once he sat down for several minutes,
and Robert Robin was hoping that he would not come any nearer the woods.
Mrs. Bee was buzzing around the basswood blossoms, and Robert Robin
said:
"Mrs. Bee, you are a very good friend of mine! Please fly down there and
sting that big cat for me! It will only take you a moment and it will be
a great favor!" But Mrs. Bee was busy filling her bag with honey, and
had no time to bother, stinging cats.
Mister Jim Crow came flying past and Robert Robin called to him: "Oh!
Mister Crow! Fly right straight at that cat and scare him out of his
wits!"
"Oh! Let him alone!" said Jim Crow, "he is only catching meadow mice!"
And Jim Crow flew over into the other woods.
Then nearer and nearer the big cat crept towards Robert Robin's tree.
Mister Kingbird came fluttering his wings and screaming, "King! King!
King!" but though he feared no hawk nor owl he was afraid of the big cat
and would not go anywhere near him.
The farmer's big Maltese cat was standing almost under Robert Robin's
tree. He was swinging his long tail from side to side, and looking at
Robert Robin with his green eyes. The big cat was thinking to himself,
"I would like to have that robin for my breakfast!"
But Robert Robin had no fear of the cat catching him; he was afraid that
the animal might climb his big basswood tree and eat his baby robins.
"I will climb that big basswood tree and catch Mister Robin!" said the
big cat to himself. Then he crawled under the fence and started
climbing up the big tree. The big basswood was very tall and straight,
and as the farmer's cat climbed higher and higher he saw Mister and Mrs.
Robert Robin sitting in a maple tree screaming at him with all their
might.
"What is the use of my climbing this tall tree when the birds are in the
top of the other one?" the cat asked himself. "I think that I will slide
down!"
The big cat slid down the big basswood tree and when he came to the
ground, he saw Mister Gabriel Chipmunk sitting on top of his old home
stump shouting "Chip! Chip!" as loudly as he could scream.
"Ho! Ho!" said the Maltese cat, "there is a striped squirrel for my
breakfast!" and the big cat tiptoed towards Mister Gabriel Chipmunk. But
Mister Chipmunk was watching the big cat all the while, and he was all
ready to jump into his hole.
Somewhere in the woods a twig snapped, and Robert Robin looked and saw
an animal coming through the woods. It was a big bulldog, and he was out
for a walk.
The big bulldog did not like cats, and if there was any one thing which
he liked to do, it was to chase cats. He did like to see them run.
When he saw the farmer's big Maltese cat, he said "Woof!" and the big
cat forgot all about Mister Chipmunk, and forgot all about Robert Robin,
and ran for the fence.
"Woof! Woof!" roared the bulldog. "Pstt! Pstt!" said the cat, and the
cat jumped through the fence, and the dog jumped through the fence, and
the cat jumped back through the fence, and the dog jumped back through
the fence, and then the cat ran up an elm tree which stood outside the
woods, and the big bulldog put both of his front paws against the tree,
and said "Woof! Woof! Woof!" Then the dog sat down and barked at the
cat, and the cat laid his ears back close to his head and growled at the
dog.
The big bulldog laughed and showed all his teeth and said, "Come down
and take a walk, Kitty! Come down and take a walk, Kitty!" Then the dog
sat down and waited three hours for the cat to come down.
The farmer's Maltese cat did not like to stay in the elm tree. The sun
was hot and some little flies kept trying to get into his ears, but the
dog was sitting in the shade, and he was thinking to himself, "That cat
will come down soon, and then I will give him another race! I do enjoy
seeing those fraidy cats run!"
Robert Robin did not like to have the farmer's cat anywhere around, and
he kept saying "Tut! Tut! Tut!" but Mrs. Robin went and got the baby
robins their breakfasts.
The sun kept getting hotter and hotter, and the farmer's big cat kept
getting warmer and warmer. "I shall roast in this tree!" he said to
himself. "This is the last time that I will ever come into these woods!
I had no idea that a big bulldog lived here!"
After a long time the big bulldog happened to remember a bone which he
had buried in the garden, and the more he thought about the bone, the
hungrier he became, so at last he looked up at the farmer's Maltese cat
and said:
"Woof! The next time I see you, Kitty! The next time I see you, Kitty!"
And the farmer's Maltese cat growled at the big bulldog and said, "If my
dog was here he would eat you up!"
Then Mister Bulldog laughed and showed all his teeth and said, "The next
time I see you, Kitty!" And then he went back to the place where he was
visiting and dug up the bone, and it was even better than he had
expected.
When the dog had gone, the farmer's Maltese cat slid down the elm tree
and ran all the way home, and found that the farmer's long-eared hound
dog had eaten all the breakfast which the farmer's wife had put in the
cat dish.
And Mister Robert Robin said to Mrs. Robin: "I hope that nice bulldog
stays all summer!"
And every time the farmer's big Maltese cat looked at the woods he said
to himself, "That is the place where that bulldog lives!"
CHAPTER V
ROBERT ROBIN SINGS HIS CHERRY SONG
Robert Robin was very happy. The cherries were ripe, and from the top of
his tall basswood tree he could see dozens of cherry trees laden with
the ripe, red fruit.
The little robins were very fond of cherries, and they never forgot to
pop the pits, so that under Robert Robin's basswood tree there were soon
great quantities of cherry pits.
One day the farmer and his hired man were coming through the woods, and
they saw the cherry pits scattered around under the big basswood.
"Look at those cherry pits!" said the hired man.
"Those are not cherry pits, they are basswood bobs!" said the farmer.
"No! They are cherry pits!" said the hired man.
"Ha! Ha!" laughed the farmer. "Cherries do not grow on basswood trees!"
"I guess that I know a cherry pit when I see one!" said the hired man.
"And if those are not cherry pits, I'll fry my mittens and eat 'em for
supper!"