scream in that tone of voice, he knew that Mister Chipmunk had seen something which had frightened him very much.

Then Robert Robin saw something moving among the trees, and a terrible, great, gray bird came swooping through the woods.

It was Mister Percy Hawk, and he was coming towards Robert Robin’s tree. The hawk’s powerful, wide wings scarcely moved as he floated among the trees, but his cruel eyes were watching to see if a squirrel or bird might not be moving through the forest. If anything moved, Mister Percy Hawk would surely see it, and pounce upon it, so all the birds and squirrels were sitting as still as sticks.

Robert Robin, and David Songsparrow, and Jeremiah Yellowbird, each of them was sure that the big hawk was looking right at them, but they did not move as the great gray bird floated straight towards their tree.

“Swish! Swish!” came the sound of wings; “Caw! Caw!” shouted Jim Crow, and five black crows darted downward through the branches of Robert Robin’s tree, and Mister Percy Hawk knew that the very best thing that he could do for himself was to hurry away before the angry crows pulled the feathers out of his back. Percy Hawk soared out of the woods, and when he was above the pasture he struck the air with his powerful wings and circled in great loops, and soon he was flying high above the tops of the tallest tree.

The other crows went home, but Jim Crow came and perched in Robert Robin’s tree.

“Thank you very much for driving that terrible hawk away from my tree!” said Robert Robin to Mister Jim Crow.

“Oh, you are entirely welcome, Mister Robin!” said Jim Crow. “If I had only been here a moment before, I would have picked a few feathers out of that bad Percy Hawk’s back to pay him for always trying to catch my baby crows!”

Then Jim Crow went over where the farmer was plowing, and Jeremiah Yellowbird went home, and David Songsparrow caught a bug for his breakfast, and Mister Gabriel Chipmunk came out and sat on his stump and said “Chip! Chip!” as loudly as he could say it, and the squirrels began chattering, and Major Partridge played a tune on his drum, and Mister Robert Robin mounted the very highest twig of his big basswood tree and sang a song for Mrs. Robin:

“Cheer up! Cheer up!
Cheer up! Cheer, up!
Be cheery!
Be cheery!
Cheer up! Cheer up!”

One fine afternoon Mister Robert Robin was down under the pasture-field brush trying to find some brown bugs. He had caught one, but two more got away from him, so he was beginning to feel discouraged, when he happened to look up and see Mrs. Henrietta Partridge sitting on her nest under a beechwood bush.

Up to that time Mister Robert Robin had not known that Mrs. Partridge had a nest, although he had suspected it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Partridge!” said Robert Robin, as he made a very polite bow. “This is wonderful weather we are having!”

“Good afternoon, Mister Robin!” said Mrs. Partridge. “Yes, it is fine weather, but for every nice day that we get, we are almost sure to have two bad, stormy days!”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Partridge!” said Robert Robin, “I have always noticed that the more fine weather we have, the more we get! I claim that we are going to have the nicest summer this year that we have had since the year we had so many cherries!”

“I do hope that you are right, Mister Robin!” said Mrs. Partridge. “Major Partridge is always joking me because I am expecting bad weather, but I have noticed that no matter how many nice days we have, it always turns around and rains, before it gets through!”

“Certainly! It should rain, or we would all die of thirst! If no rain came out of the sky, we would not have any cherries, and the bugs would all be so dry there would not be any taste to them! We must have rain, Mrs. Partridge! We must have rain!”

“Do you enjoy rainy weather, Mister Robin?” asked Mrs. Partridge.

“I like wet weather, when it is not too wet; I like dry weather when it is not too dry; I like warm weather when it is not too warm, and I like cool weather when it is not too cool! And I have a song for each kind of weather!” said Robert Robin as he again started hunting for brown bugs.

“You seem to be looking for something, Mister Robin!” said Mrs. Partridge.

“Yes, I am hunting brown bugs!” said Robert Robin; “two of them hid under the leaves, but there must be a few more left!”

“Stir the leaves up with your feet!” said Mrs. Partridge, “then if there are any brown bugs under them you will be able to catch them!”

“I cannot make my feet go backwards!” said Robert Robin. “My feet insist on hopping! I think that I must be clumsy with my legs, for even the farmer’s big rooster can scratch the ground and dig up wonderful things. I saw him kick a worm clear through the fence!”

“He must be very strong!” said Mrs. Partridge.

“Strong! I should say he is strong! Even Percy Hawk is afraid of him, and never goes near the little chickens when that big rooster is watching him!”

“Major Partridge is very athletic!” said Mrs. Partridge. “He exercises a great deal on his drum!”

“Here comes the Major now!” said Robert Robin.

“How do you do, sir!” said Major Partridge to Robert Robin.

“Good afternoon, Major!” said Robert Robin. “I have just been telling Mrs. Partridge about how strong the farmer’s big rooster was, and how he could dig with his feet!”

“Did you ever see me dig with my feet?” asked Major Partridge.

“I do not remember ever having seen you dig with your feet, Major Partridge, but the farmer’s big rooster kicked a worm clear through the fence!”

“Kicking a little worm is nothing! Once I kicked a stone from hither to yonder, and Billy Rabbit asked me to help him dig his next hole!” declared Major Partridge, as he stood very straight and put his chest out. “If you have a few moments to spare I will dig these leaves up for you!”

Then Major Partridge began kicking the leaves in all directions, and Robert Robin began catching the brown bugs, and Mrs. Partridge came from her nest, and found the ripe partridge berries which Major Partridge was uncovering, but when the Major happened to see the ripe red partridge berries he forgot all about kicking the leaves, and he and Mrs. Partridge ate all the berries and never invited Robert Robin to have a berry.

“You seem to like partridge berries!” said Robert Robin.

“Yes, we are very fond of them!” said Mrs. Partridge. “They are my favorite fruit!”

“I seldom eat them!” said Robert Robin. “My favorite fruit is a ripe red cherry!”

“I thought that cherries were purple when they were ripe,” said Mrs. Partridge.

“Some kinds of wild cherries are purple when they are ripe, but the cherries which grow on the trees near the farmer’s house are red when they are ripe, and they are ever so much better than wild cherries!” said Robert Robin.

“I would like some of the farmer’s ripe red cherries, but I would never dare go so near the farmer’s house. He would be almost sure to see me and shoot me with his gun!” said Mrs. Partridge, as she got back on her nest and