The Tale of Bobby Bobolink Part 4

"There must be a nest there!" he exclaimed under his breath. And he ran quickly to the spot where Bobby was acting so queerly. But when he got there Johnnie found nothing.

Bobby Bobolink had fooled him. He never knew how near he came to stumbling upon the nest, before Bobby played that trick on him.

Mrs. Bobolink was greatly relieved when Johnnie Green left her end of the meadow. And she told her husband that she had never supposed Johnnie would come where it was so damp, for fear of getting his feet wet.

Bobby Bobolink did not tell her that he had known all the time that a little water never troubled Johnnie Green--so long as he didn't have to wash his face in it.

XI

BOBBY'S NAMES

EVERYBODY--almost--liked Bobby Bobolink. His neighbors in Farmer Green's meadow enjoyed his singing. And they thought him the merriest harum-scarum they had ever known. He was even cheerful to look at, too.

For with every bright day that pa.s.sed, Bobby Bobolink's dress took on a gayer hue. The truth was that the yellowish tips of his feathers were wearing away, leaving him a handsome suit of black, set off by a generous patch of creamy yellow on the back of his neck, with enough white on his back and shoulders to make a most jaunty costume.

Most of the field people enjoyed Bobby Bobolink's company, for he was always in high spirits. And many of them were vain enough to like to be seen with him, on account of his dashing appearance. Mr. Red-winged Blackbird was especially fond of Bobby's companionship. And he was forever speaking of his old friend, Bobby Bobolink, and acting as if he knew Bobby a great deal better than anybody else did.

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird never tired of telling the neighbors about the good times he and Bobby had together when they were in the South. And he related many things about Bobby that some of the feathered folk hadn't heard of.

"There isn't anybody in the valley that has more names than Bobby Bobolink," Mr. Red-winged Blackbird said to Mr. Crow one day. "Some people call him the Reed Bird. And down South they scarcely know the name Bobolink. Down there everybody calls him the Rice Bird. And there's an island far off in the southern seas where people speak of him as the b.u.t.ter Bird."

Now, if the truth must be known, old Mr. Crow was a bit jealous of Bobby Bobolink. It was said--by those that ought to have known--that Mr. Crow didn't like it because Bobby Bobolink was not only a member of the Pleasant Valley Singing Society, but its finest singer as well.

Unfortunately, Mr. Crow's husky voice had always prevented his joining the Society. And somehow--having heard that Bobby was very fond of rice--Mr. Crow could not get the notion out of his head that he might be just as fond of corn.

If Mr. Crow thought anybody but himself liked corn he was sure to be spiteful towards him. You might have thought, from the way Mr. Crow acted, that Farmer Green didn't raise enough corn to go around.

"How does it happen," Mr. Crow inquired slyly of Mr. Red-winged Blackbird, "that your friend Bobby Bobolink has all these names? It can't be--can it--that he is a rogue and is always changing his name so people won't know who he is?"

"Certainly not!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird snapped. "Only a stupid person would ask such a question as that."

Just then Bobby Bobolink himself flashed across the meadow and joined them. And Mr. Red-winged Blackbird began to talk about the weather.

He was afraid that Mr. Crow intended to be disagreeable.

XII

MR. CROW IS DISAGREEABLE

ALTHOUGH Mr. Red-winged Blackbird talked about the weather as fast as he could, his chatter did not prevent Mr. Crow from interrupting him, because the old gentleman was determined to be disagreeable to Bobby Bobolink, and nothing could stop him.

"Your friend here has been talking about you," he told Bobby Bobolink with a wise smile. "He says you have a good many names."

"Yes!" Bobby told Mr. Crow. "That's quite true."

Mr. Crow coughed; and he shot a sidelong look at Mr. Red-winged Blackbird.

"It must be pleasant to have so many fine names," Mr. Crow then added, with a smirk.

"Oh, very!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird answered for his friend.

Mr. Crow turned a snapping eye on him, and croaked:

"There's at least one name you left out among the lot you mentioned to me. You said he was known as the Reed Bird, the Rice Bird, and the b.u.t.ter Bird. But there's one more bird still to be added to the list."

"Is there?"

"Yes!" Mr. Crow replied. "Maybe I know more about your chum than you do.

Perhaps you weren't aware that in spite of all the elegant names you've spoken of, he's nothing but a Skunk Blackbird after all!" And with a loud haw-haw Mr. Crow rose upon the breeze and flapped into the woods.

That was a favorite trick of his. After making some specially rude remark he would hurry away before anybody had time to think of a retort.

"The idea!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird exclaimed to Bobby Bobolink, gazing after Mr. Crow with an injured air. "He insulted you!"

To his great surprise Bobby laughed heartily.

"Mr. Crow is a wise old bird," he said, "He generally knows what he's talking about."

"You don't mean to say that he was telling the truth, do you?" Mr.

Red-winged Blackbird demanded.

"I do!" Bobby Bobolink admitted.

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird edged away slightly. Skunks, he knew, would rather eat a bird than not. And he couldn't help wondering whether a Skunk Blackbird might be as dangerous.

"Then some people do call you that!" he faltered.

"Yes! But I don't care," Bobby Bobolink answered carelessly. "It's only because of these clothes I'm wearing at present--black, you know, with stripes of white down each side and meeting on my back."

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird stared at him.

"Then," he asked, "that's the only way you're like a Skunk?"

"Certainly!" said Bobby. And he laughed so merrily that Mr. Red-winged Blackbird had to believe him.

"I was scared, for a moment," he confessed. "I was afraid you might take it into your head to eat me."

Bobby Bobolink seemed to think that a huge joke. And he sang several humorous songs before he turned to Mr. Red-winged Blackbird and said:

"I can tell you one thing. I'd rather be called a Skunk Blackbird than a Skunk Crow, any day!"