CHAPTER IX.
THE BIRDS AND THE FLOWERS
The little family party strolled on through the beautiful woods, following the windings of the creek that was now a tiny stream.
[Illustration: The creek in the woods]
Here and there were little holes hollowed out by the spring floods. Miniature falls gurgled over dead leaves. Graceful ferns fringed the creek's banks. Mosses covered the bowlders.
Through the foliage danced the rays of the bright sun, casting wavering shadows over the leaf-covered ground.
"Here is the pond!" cried Susie.
But the pond that formed the reservoir of the creek was now nearly drained, and in place of water there was a swamp filled with reeds, rushes, and grasses. A small clear pool remained in the center.
[Illustration: Blackbirds.]
On the tall reeds swaying to and fro piped a family of blackbirds, busily chattering to each other. Overhead in the cloudless sky floated a huge hawk.
"In the spring this ground is all covered with water; it makes quite a large lake," said Mr. Leonard.
"You thought of draining off the water and turning the pond into a cornfield, didn't you, father?" asked Mrs. Leonard.
"Yes," said Mr. Leonard; "by digging a ditch or making the channel deeper at the outlet, this would become dry land the year around. The soil is deep and rich-better even than the bottom land."
"That would spoil the creek, wouldn't it, father?" asked Frank.
"Yes, it would run in the spring only," said Mr. Leonard.
"Where would the cattle drink in the summer?" asked Donald.
"That's the difficulty. The swamp holds enough to keep the cattle in water all summer."
"Would the corn more than pay for the loss of the water?" asked Frank.
"Yes, I think so," answered his father.
"But it would spoil my beautiful creek," said Susie. "Don't do that."
"If this swamp were in New England," said Uncle Robert, "the farmers would dig out this rich mud for their poor land."
"Oh," cried Susie, "the blue flags are almost in bloom!"
"There is one all blossomed out," said Donald. "I'll get it."
The boys took an old log and threw it across the wet place, and Donald, balancing himself carefully, went out and picked the blooming flag with its buds.
"Thank you, Donald," said Susie, as he handed her the pretty flowers.
"I'll put the buds in water and they will open."
[Illustration: Blue Flag.]
"Do you know the names of all the flowers in your bouquet?" asked Uncle
Robert.
"Every one of them," said Susie. "This is phlox. There is ever so much of it in the woods now. And this is a trillium. Isn't it big and white? Here is another, only it is red."
"We used to call the red ones 'wake-robin' in New England," said Uncle
Robert. "I thought they came earlier than the white ones."
"They do," said Susie. "They've been here a long time."
"The violets are just as pretty as when I came, aren't they?" said Uncle
Robert. "Do they stay all summer?"
"Not quite," replied Susie. "But they stay a long time in the woods."
"What is this?" asked Uncle Robert, pointing to a pale-pink flower on a hairy stem, surrounded by rough green leaves.
"That's a wild geranium," said Susie; "but do you think it looks-much like a geranium? I don't."
"No, but here is a seed pod," said Uncle Robert. "It looks like the seed of the geranium that grows in the garden. Perhaps that is what gave it the name."
[Illustration: Wild geranium.]
"I have a flower that you haven't, Susie," said Mrs. Leonard, holding it up for them to see.
"Oh," cried Susie, "a yellow lady's slipper! I didn't know they were out yet. Where did you find it?"
"I picked it on the bank near the creek while you were talking about the trees," replied her mother.
"I wish I could find a pink one," said Susie, looking around.
"Isn't it too early for them?" asked Uncle Robert.
"They come about the same time as the yellow ones," said Donald, "but we don't find very many of them."
"I like the Indian name for that flower," said Mr. Leonard.
"Do you mean moccasin flower, father?" asked Frank. "I like that too."
[Illustration: Yellow lady's slipper.]
"Why don't we call it that?" asked Donald.
"Lady's slipper is easier to remember," said Susie.
"Here are some bluebells, Susie," said Frank, holding up a handful of the dainty, graceful blossoms. "Give some to mother, and you may have the rest."
"How many blue flowers we have!" said Susie. "There aren't any red ones excepting the red trillium, and that's so dark it isn't really red."
"It's more purple than red," said Donald.
"This isn't the time of the year for red flowers," said Mrs. Leonard.
"They come later in the summer and in the fall."
"I wonder why there are no red ones in the spring," said Susie.
"I saw painted cups along the edge of the timothy meadow yesterday," said Donald.
[Illustration: Moccasin flower.]
"Oh, did you, Don? Were they truly red, or just yellow?"
"No, they were in bloom. They were red."
"Let's go home that way," said Susie, "and get some."
"I wish all the people in New York could know how restful these woods are," said Uncle Robert, breathing a long breath of the sweet, pure air.
"It always seems to me more quiet in the woods on Sunday than on any other day," said Mrs. Leonard.
"Do the birds know when it is Sunday?" asked Susie.
"If they do," said Uncle Robert, "those blue jays must have forgotten."
"Just hear how they scream!" said Frank.
"They must be up to their usual trick," said Mr. Leonard, "of tormenting some other bird."
"Listen!" said Donald. "It's a sparrow hawk they're after. That's the sparrow hawk's cry, but it's a blue jay that made it. They always mimic them when they chase them. I've watched them lots of times."
[Illustration: Blue jay.]
"I wish we could see them now!" said Frank. "The hawk will turn on them soon. Then they'll change their tune."
"They are having a good time shouting and screaming to each other," said
Susie. "What a horrid noise they make!"
"They scare away the other birds," said Donald.
"How many birds do you know?" asked Uncle Robert.
[Illustration: Robin.]
"I know all the birds that come around the house and the barn," said Donald. "There are the robins, sparrows, pewees, wrens, swallows, and martins. Then there are the birds in the fields—the larks and the crows. The names of some of the little birds in the woods I do not know."
"You have left out the woodpeckers," said Frank, "and the thrushes and catbirds."
"And the cherry birds, that look like canaries," said Susie.
"Get up early in the morning, just as the sun is rising, and you will hear a chorus," said Mrs. Leonard. "It is a regular morning praise meeting."
[Illustration: Woodpecker.] "The oriole, or golden robin, is the handsomest bird of all," said Donald.
"A great many birds come in the spring which stay only a few days," said
Frank.
"Where do they come from, and where do they go?" asked Uncle Robert.
"They come from the south, I suppose, where it is warmer. I wonder how they know when it is time to start," said Frank.
"And which way to go," added Donald.
"And how they decide where to stop and build their nests," said Mrs.
Leonard.
[Illustration: Oriole.]
"Very interesting questions, but no one has answered them yet," said Uncle Robert. "Migrating birds are all found in the south in winter, and we see them in the spring."
"What do you mean by mi-grat-ing birds?" asked Susie.
"Birds that fly from one part of the country to another," said Uncle
Robert.
"The bluebird is the first to come," said Donald.
"A patch of blue sky," said Uncle Robert.
"You forget the geese that screech over our heads in the early spring," said Frank. "They fly in flocks shaped like an arrow."
[Illustration: Bluebird.]
"The 'bobwhite' is the funniest little bird. One comes right up to my garden fence. It is a shame to shoot them!" said Susie.
"It is a shame to kill any bird unless you need it for food. Every time a bird is killed the farmer loses one of his best helpers. The birds work for the farmer from morning to night."
"Oh, now you are making fun, Uncle Robert," said Susie. "The birds don't work at all. They just fly around and have a good time."
"The crows don't work for the farmer when they pull up his corn," said
Frank.
"Nor the hawks when they steal his chickens," added Mr. Leonard.
"The cherry birds steal the cherries, and the sparrows eat the strawberries," said Susie.
"You would soon find out how much the birds do if they should all fly away," said Uncle Robert.
[Illustration: Crow. ]
"The cankerworms would eat the leaves of the apple and other trees, and insects of all kinds would destroy the crops. The crow taxes the corn in payment for all the good he does. The hawks eat a thousand mice to one chicken—in fact, very few hawks eat chickens, anyway. The cherry birds and sparrows should be allowed a little toll for all the fruit they save. I want you to read a charming book called The Great World's Farm. The author calls birds 'Nature's militia.' The morning song of the birds means 'We are going to help the farmer to-day.'"
"That's true," said Mr. Leonard. "The farmers are just learning what a help the birds are to them. We have found that they eat the grubs, the worms, and the bugs before they eat everything else."
"Would there be very many more worms than there are now," asked Susie, "if the birds should go away?"
"You don't remember, do you, Susie," said her mother, "how many caterpillars there were in the village the year they tried to drive the sparrows away?"
"I do," said Donald. "Wasn't it dreadful? Why, Uncle Robert, the leaves were all eaten off the trees, and you could hardly take a step without squashing a caterpillar."
"Ugh!" said Susie with a shudder. "I'm glad I was too little to remember it."
"But the strange part of it was," said Frank, "that out here we hardly saw a caterpillar all summer."
"And our trees were never more beautiful," said Mrs. Leonard.
"Perhaps the village sparrows came to visit you," said Uncle Robert.
"They must have," said Donald. "The woods were full of them."
"I have read," said Uncle Robert, "that some small birds eat every day as much as their own weight in worms and insects."
"Oh, my!" said Susie. "I wonder how many worms that would be."
"The appetite of the small bird," said Mr. Leonard, looking at Donald with a smile, "must be something like that of a small boy."
They had now left the woods and were going toward the timothy meadow to get the painted cups. Donald was right. One corner of the meadow was bright with the vivid red patches.
The sun was setting when they reached home. As they passed the woodpile in the back yard Donald said:
"I wonder how old that wood is! I'm going to see if I can count the rings."
"Show them to me, Donald," said Susie. "I never saw them."
Just then the clear, rich song of a bird rang out from the top of a tree on the edge of the woods.
"Hark!" said Mr. Leonard. "That is the thrush."
They listened until the song was ended.
"What a lovely walk we have had!" said Susie. "I'm not a bit tired. Are you, mother?"
"Well, a little," said Mrs. Leonard, "but we never had a more delightful afternoon. Thank you, dear," as Frank brought an easy-chair from the house to the porch for her. "Now I shall be rested in a few minutes."
"Let me put your flowers in water with mine, mother," said Susie.
"Tell Jane to bring our supper out here," said Mrs. Leonard. "It is too pleasant to go in the house."
"And tell her to be quick about it," said Donald. "I'm starving!"
"As hungry as a sparrow," said Uncle Robert, smiling.
While they were eating, the twilight came on.
"Listen!" whispered Frank, as a queer, clucking sound was heard among the bushes. Then came the cry:
"Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!"
"I wish I could see a whip-poor-will," said Donald. "They never let me get near enough to them to see how they look."
"Let's try this one," said Frank. "It's very near."
On tiptoe they slipped off the porch, but the shy bird heard them and flew away. Soon they heard it again:
"Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!"
And another one answered from the edge of the cornfield:
"Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!"
[Illustration: Whip-poor-will. ]
CHAPTER X.
THE THUNDERSHOWER.
It had been growing warmer all day. When Susie looked at the thermometer at noon she wrote "82 degrees" in her little book. As they sat around the dinner table Uncle Robert asked:
"Do you find it hot in the meadow to-day?" "Rather warm," replied Mr. Leonard, "but it is fine haying weather. By night we shall have the hay in off that twenty acres, and it will be the finest crop of timothy I have had in years."
The haying had begun four days before. For a week Mr. Leonard had visited the field of timothy daily, and when he found the long heads of the graceful grass in full bloom he said:
"It is ready. We must begin to-morrow."
So the next morning the horses were hitched to the mowing machine, and Peter drove out to the meadow. The plumy heads of the tall timothy swayed on their slender stalks as they bowed before the breeze that swept over the meadow, making it look in the sunshine like the rippling surface of a quiet lake.
[Illustration: Mowing the meadow.]
It seemed a pity to cut it down, but Peter thought only of the fine hay it would make, as he drove around the meadow again and again, each time coming nearer the center.
No sound broke the stillness but the "click, click" of the sharp knives, at the touch of which the tall grass quivered a moment and then fell.
In the afternoon Donald rode the rake, to which one of the horses, strong and steady, was hitched. The horse knew his business. He needed no direction from Donald as up and down the meadow he went, with slow and even steps.
Donald sat on the small round seat, his hand grasping the lever by which he raised and lowered the long curved teeth of the rake that gathered up the hay and dropped it in long rows called windrows.
Mr. Leonard and Frank followed with their pitchforks, and piled the windrows into big round cocks. The sun shone hot and clear. A strong, dry south wind was blowing, and the air was filled with the sweet smell of the newly mown hay.
The second day Mr. Leonard rode the machine while Peter and Frank opened the hay that had been cocked the day before, so that it would be nicely dried. By noon it was all cut.
The next day they raked it up for the last time and began to stow it away in the big haymows in the barn, where the very smell of it would make the horses hungry.
"Susie and I are coming out to help this afternoon," said Uncle Robert, as, after a short rest in the cool porch, the haymakers, started for the meadow again.
"We'll take all the help we can get," replied Mr. Leonard.
"I am afraid it is going to rain," said Uncle Robert, as he started a little later with Susie for the hayfield. "The barometer has fallen since morning."
"But, uncle," said Susie, "I don't see any clouds."
[Illustration: Raking and cocking hay.]
"Watch, and you'll see them before long," returned Uncle Robert. "What is that in the west now?"
"It looks like the beginning of a cloud," said Susie.
Mr. Leonard, Peter, and Frank were loading the hay into a big wagon, while Donald raked after them.
"There's a shower coming," said Uncle Robert, pointing toward the west.
All paused and looked at the bank of clouds just coming into sight along the western horizon.
The air was still and sultry. Great beads of perspiration rolled down the faces of the haymakers.
"It's going to rain, sure," shouted Mr. Leonard, "and we must hurry or this fine hay will be spoiled. Harness up the horses to the other hayrack, Frank and Donald—be quick!"
The boys did not need urging. They felt the need, and ran to the barn.
"Bring some extra pitchforks!" shouted their father after them.
Uncle Robert pulled off his coat, and the spirit of his boyhood days came back.
Susie seized a rake and began to gather the scattered hay and pile it on the cocks.
The fresh span of horses galloped into the field. Frank brought them to a stand between two long rows of haycocks.
How they all worked! The very horses seemed to understand. They started with a jump to each new cock, and stood perfectly still as one after the other was added to their load.
"It is coming!" shouted Peter, swinging his fork to spread the great bundles of hay which came flying up to him.
The clouds looked like mountains with snowy peaks as they rose rapidly in the southwest. The mass moved under the sun and the bright silver color changed to blackness. Lightning flashes followed one another quickly. The low rumbling of thunder stirred the still air.
"It is coming!" cried Donald, as he took the reins to move to another cock. "G'long!"
All was hurry and excitement. Mrs. Leonard and Jane appeared on the scene with rakes in hand. Barri bounded from horse to horse as if that was some help.
Suddenly it grew darker. The leaves began to quiver. A curious light crept over the fields.
"There is the wind," shouted Frank. "The rain will be here in a minute."
Clouds completely covered the sky. Black forms seemed to dart out of their heavy masses.
"There's a drop," cried Susie.
Then what a wind! Straw hats were whirled away, but there was no time to run after them.
"Pile up the hay!"
The great loads staggered.
"Drive for the barn!" shouted Mr. Leonard. "Some of it must spoil, I suppose. We have done our best."
The horses moved off on the run, Frank's team ahead.
A roll and a crash of thunder followed a zigzag flash.
The hay was under cover, and the rain poured down.
[Illustration: The coming storm.]
They reached the porch just as it began to fall thick and fast. A moment more and it came down in floods, while at the same time the darkness passed away.
"How cool it is growing!" said Mrs. Leonard.
"It is twelve degrees cooler than it was at noon," said Donald, looking at the thermometer. "See, the wind has changed. It is from the northeast now."
Frank went into the dining-room, and when he came back he said, "The barometer has risen two-tenths of an inch since we looked at it last."
It seemed to rain harder than ever. The water was driven in sheets before the strong northeast wind. A stream began to run down the garden path. A vivid flash of lightning was followed quickly by a loud crash of thunder.
"That struck somewhere near," said Frank.
"I believe it was over in the wood," said Mrs. Leonard.
"See," said Uncle Robert in a few moments, pointing to a line of light in the western sky, "it is clearing already. The shower will soon be over."
The light in the west grew rapidly. The lightning became less frequent. The thunder rolled farther and farther away. The rain fell less and less heavily. The weather vane that had pointed to the northeast began to waver, and then turned toward the southwest again. It rained steadily but more gently as the clouds rolled away eastward.
And then the sun, lower now by two hours than when it was first hidden by the cloud, shone out clear and bright. Instantly everything glistened as with millions of diamonds. Even the air seemed to be filled with them, as though each raindrop was turned into a jewel as it fell.
Uncle Robert went to the front of the house and looked toward the dark cloud that was now piled up in the eastern sky.
"Come and see the rainbow!" he called.
As they looked at the bright and perfect arch that lay against the dark mass of clouds, Susie asked, "What makes rainbows, uncle?"
"It is the sun shining on the rain," replied Uncle Robert "This beautiful sunlight is made up of many, many rays. These rays fly from the sun as straight as arrows from a bow, unless something comes in their way to stop them. It seems as though such sharp little arrows of light would go right through raindrops. But they don't. They glance off the little round balls of water and bound up again like rubber balls.
"Now you know if you throw a ball straight down at your feet it bounds back into your hands. If you throw it from you, when it strikes the ground it bounds farther away. It is just so with these little arrows of light that we call rays. If the sun is high, as it is at noon, the rays are thrown back to it again. That is why we never have rainbows at noon. But when the sun is low, as it is now, instead of going back to the place they came from, they bound up against that cloud, and so make the wonderful rainbow."
"But, uncle," asked Donald, "why do we see so many colors in the rainbow? They are not in the sunlight."
"Oh, yes, they are," was the answer. "These rays of light are of the same colors that we see in the rainbow. It takes all of them mixed together to make the clear white light which we call sunlight, and without which nothing could live or grow.
"As the raindrops throw them up against that cloud, they are separated again, because some colors are more easily bent than others. The red, you see, is the highest and the violet the lowest in the bow. The raindrops make a prism. You have seen a prism. But through the prism the colors are turned the other way; the red is lowest and the violet highest."
"How fast the rainbow is fading away!" said Susie. "I wish it would stay."
"The rain is over," announced Donald, leaving them and walking out toward the garden. "The sky is quite clear."
"It is getting warm again," said Frank, looking at the thermometer, "but it does not feel hot as it did before the rain."
"The barometer is just where it was this morning," said Susie, coming from the dining-room.
"It is drying off very fast," said Uncle Robert. "Let us walk out and see how the garden stood its drenching."
"Put on your rubbers, Susie," called Mrs. Leonard from the house.
As they crossed the yard they passed a pan in the bottom of which the water stood an inch or more deep.
"That shows how much rain fell," said Uncle Robert, pointing to the pan.
"Do you mean if it had stayed on the ground where it fell it would have been that deep all over?" asked Susie. "Would that have been very much?"
"I think it would," was the smiling reply. "You might try to find out how much fell on the garden alone if it was an inch deep all over."
Susie shook her head.
"I don't know how," she said.
"Uncle," said Frank, "in the weather reports they always tell how much rain falls, even if it is only a small part of an inch. How can they tell when it is so little?"
"They have what is called a rain gauge, by which a very small amount of rainfall can be measured. By the way, we might have a rain-gauge of our own. It would be easy to make one with the help of a tinsmith. Is there a tinsmith in the village?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "but I don't believe he has much to do."
"So much the better for us," laughed Uncle Robert. "Susie, while these other people are busy tomorrow, shall we drive to the village and see if we can get the tinsmith to help us make a rain-gauge? I have a little book somewhere that tells just how it should be done."
Susie was delighted at the thought of such a day with Uncle Robert, and the boys were so interested in the prospect of having a rain-gauge of their own that they could hardly wait for to-morrow to come.
CHAPTER XI.
THE VILLAGE.
The next morning Frank harnessed Nell for Uncle Robert and Susie to drive into the village to see the tinsmith.
It was a delightful ride through the woods and the fields washed clean by the rain. The birds were singing gayly. The air was fresh and clear. Long shadows lay along the road.
The tinsmith was sitting by his open door, tilted back in an old wooden chair. As Nell stopped, he brought his chair down on its four legs and said:
"Good morning."
Uncle Robert lifted Susie out of the wagon and hitched Nell to a post.
The tinsmith rose to his feet, smiling to Susie, who said:
"This is my Uncle Robert, Mr. Mills. We've come to have a rain-gauge made."
"Good morning," said Uncle Robert, turning to Mr. Mills, who looked as if he thought rain gauges were not exactly in his line. "Can you spare us a little time this morning? Susie must have her rain-gauge before the next shower."
"Come right in," said Mr. Mills, "and tell me what your rain-gauge looks like. I never heard of such a thing."
With Uncle Robert's careful direction he soon understood what they wanted. They saw him well started in the work, and then Uncle Robert said:
"Come, Susie, let's go to the post office.—How long before the rain-gauge will be finished?" he asked of Mr. Mills. "Shall we have time to get dinner?"
"I think I can have it ready by two o'clock," answered Mr. Mills.
"Then we'll take Nell to the hotel," said Uncle Robert.
They drove slowly under the big cottonwood trees which shaded the street.
"Isn't it nice that it takes such a long time to make a rain-gauge?" said Susie. "Here we are at the hotel now, Uncle Robert. It's such a little way."
From the hotel they strolled to the store, the center of life and interest in the village.
[Illustration: The village street.]
One corner of the store was taken up by the post office. Back from that ran long lines of shelves which reached to the ceiling. Beneath them were bins for flour and sugar. On the lower shelves were canisters of tea, coffee, and spices, and glass candy jars, which looked very inviting to Susie. Some were filled with gay-striped sticks. There were also jars of peppermint lozenges, star—and heart-shaped, with pink mottoes on their white faces.
On the upper shelves were rows upon rows of cans covered with gay pictures of fruits and vegetables.
Opposite the groceries were long shelves of dry goods. A glass case at one end of the counter was filled with bright-colored ribbons.
In the darkness at the back of the store stood the barrels of vinegar, molasses, and kerosene oil. Above them hung rows of well-cured hams and sides of bacon. Near the barrels stood an old rusty stove which bore the marks of long use.
Uncle Robert asked for the mail. Susie looked longingly at the glass jars upon the shelf, trusting that Uncle Robert would understand her even if she didn't say anything.
"We must have some candy," he said. "Tell Mr. Jenkins what you would like, Susie, while I look at my letters."
Susie carefully picked out three sticks of peppermint, three sticks of lemon, and three of cinnamon.
"If you please, I'd like some of the mottoes, too."
Mr. Jenkins handed down the jar, spread out a clean sheet of wrapping paper, and turned out the candies.
Susie selected a dozen hearts, rounds, and stars, with different mottoes, and then wondered if she ought to have lemon drops, too.
"Do you think I have enough, uncle?" she asked.
Uncle Robert knew pretty well what little girls like.
"No, Susie," he said, "you have forgotten the lemon drops, and, let me see, nut candy—we must carry home enough for mother and the boys."
Just then a little girl in a pink sunbonnet, carrying an oil can in her hand, came through the open door.
"How d' do, Susie," she said, with a shy glance at Uncle Robert.
"How d' do," said Susie. "Have some of my candy, Jennie?" holding it out to her. "Uncle Robert bought it for me. There he is," in a loud whisper.
"Good morning, Jennie," said Uncle Robert, putting his letters in his pocket. "You haven't been out to see Susie since I have been here."
"It's Jennie's mother who had the nasturtiums last year," said Susie.
"Have you any now Jennie?"
"Yes, but they don't grow well this year," answered Jennie.
"Perhaps you need new seeds," said Uncle Robert. "They are apt to do better if they are raised on different soil."
"I have some nasturtiums this year, Jennie," said Susie. "They are just beginning to blossom. I'll save you some seed if you want me to."
"Come out some day and see Susie's flowers, Jennie," said Uncle Robert kindly, as they left the store.
"Good-by, Jennie," said Susie.
"Time for dinner," said Uncle Robert. "I'm hungry."
Susie's eyes danced.
They went into the dining-room and sat down at the long table. Through the window they could see the hotel garden from which the flowers on the table had been gathered.
"What shall we do now?" asked Uncle Robert as, after dinner, they stood upon the porch, looking up and down the street.
No sound was heard but the sleepy noonday song of the grasshopper and the occasional rattle of a wagon going down to the store.
"Let's go to the mill," said Susie.
"The mill wasn't running when we passed there this morning," said Uncle Robert. "Suppose we wait until some time when the boys are with us. Then we can go all through it, and see just how wheat is changed into flour."
"Oh, yes," said Susie, "that will be the nicest."
"We might go to the station and see the train come in," suggested Uncle
Robert, looking at his watch.
"Oh, that's fun! Come on, uncle," cried Susie, running down the steps.
"See, they are all going down now!"
"All right," said Uncle Robert, "but don't hurry; there's plenty of time."
As they looked down the track they could see the steel rails gleaming in the hot sunshine. The two shining lines stretched away until they seemed to meet in the distance.
In the other direction a faint line of smoke appeared over the trees. It grew more and more distinct, until at last an engine rounded the curve and came puffing heavily up the track, pulling a long line of cars behind it.
"That's a freight train," said Uncle Robert.
"It stops here to let the passenger go by," said the station master, who stood near. "Expecting some one to-day, sir? The train isn't due for ten minutes."
"Not to-day," replied Uncle Robert. "Do many trains stop here?"
"Not many," said the station master as he hurried away to the switch.
[Illustration: A freight train.]
The great engine, drawing its heavy load after it, turned into the side track. When the small caboose at the end had passed the switch a man, who was running upon the tops of the cars, waved his arms and the long line stood still.
"The engine breathes hard—just like Barri after a long run," said
Susie. "I wonder what is in all these cars, uncle."
"Here is one marked 'Furniture,' from a large factory in Grand Rapids," said Uncle Robert, reading the white card that was tacked on the side. "It is going to a town in Nebraska."
"What funny cars these open ones are!" said Susie; "the ones with the shelves in. What are they for? They're empty, too. I shouldn't think they'd want to drag empty cars about."
"These are the cars poultry is shipped in," explained Uncle Robert. "Perhaps they have been to Chicago with chickens for the market, and are on the way back to the place they came from for more."
"How many of these big yellow cars there are!" said Susie. "They all have re-frig-re-frig—"
"Refrigerator," prompted Uncle Robert.
"Oh, I know what a refrigerator is," said Susie. "It's an ice box. Are these cars ice boxes, uncle?"
"Yes; the great packing houses at the stock yards in Chicago ship beef all over the country in them. The fruit from California comes in refrigerator cars, too."
"There's the train!" cried Susie, "and here comes Mr. Jenkins with the mail."
The train came rushing on. Susie thought it was not going to stop. But suddenly it slowed up. The conductor leaped upon the platform. The train stood still. Heads were thrust out of the windows. A few passengers alighted. Brakemen ran along the platform.
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor, waving his hand to the engineer, who was leaning out of the cab window watching for the signal.
"Ding-dong, ding-dong, puff, puff, toot, toot," and the train was off.
"Now we'll go and see if there is any mail for us," said Uncle Robert.
"Then we'll go to the tinsmith's."
[Illustration: Rain-gauge.]
The rain-gauge was just finished. So Susie waited in the shop while Uncle Robert went to the stable for Nell, who pricked up her ears when she saw him. She was beginning to think she had been forgotten.
It was late in the afternoon when they reached home. Mrs. Leonard and the boys were looking for them when they drove in at the gate.
It took some time to choose just the right place for the rain-gauge, but at last they decided upon a little rise of ground that lay between the house and the orchard.
There was first the funnel-shaped receiver, one and one-half inches deep and eight inches in diameter. Below this was a tube two and five-tenths inches in diameter and twenty inches long. At the top of this tube, close to the receiver, there was a small hole.
"What is that hole for?" asked Donald.
"So if it rains more than enough to fill this tube," explained Susie, who knew all about it, "it can run out of the hole."
"Then it will be lost," said Donald.
"No," replied Uncle Robert, "it is to be set inside of this cylinder, which is twenty-three and one-half inches long, but only six inches in diameter, and so is smaller than the top of the receiver.
"The water that runs from that hole falls into this. By measuring it in the small tube, and adding it to what the tube held before, we can know how much there is in all. One inch in the tube would be one-tenth of an inch in the receiver."
"Then twenty inches, or the tube full, would be two inches in the receiver," said Frank.
"Yes," said his uncle; "but how shall we make this stand up?"
"We might pile stones around it," suggested Donald.
"That will be a good way," said Uncle Robert.
There were some stones in a pile near the orchard fence. Frank and Donald picked them up and placed them about the rain-gauge until it stood firm.
"Well, these stones are of some use after all," said Frank.
"I'm glad of it," said Donald. "It seemed as though we should never get them all picked up. I believe stones grow."
"These stones tell a wonderful story," said Uncle Robert, smiling.
"Oh, uncle, when are you going to tell it to us? To-night?" asked Susie.
"Not to-night, my dear. You have had stories enough for one day," and
Uncle Robert took her by the hand and started for the house.
"We have a regular weather bureau of our own now," said Donald. "I hope it will rain all day long to-morrow."
CHAPTER XII.
A DAY ON THE RIVER.
"Father, can't we have a picnic on the river?" asked Susie.
"Please, do let us have a picnic," said Donald.
"I think you may," said Mr. Leonard. "You might have it to-morrow. I won't need the boys."
"Hurrah!" cried Donald, and Susie skipped and danced for joy.
"We'll have to have a nice lunch," said Frank.
"What shall it be?" asked Mrs. Leonard.
"Oh, we can take some ham sandwiches—"
"And some cake and jelly," put in Susie.
"And some cold chicken and boiled eggs," added Donald.
"Oh," cried Susie, "let us take our eggs along all fresh and boil them!
We can take a little pail and—"
"I'll tell you what we'll do," interrupted Frank. "We'll take some salt pork, and catch some fish, and have a fry."
Frank looked at the barometer and said it was going to be a nice day. The sun was setting clear and bright. The children went to bed happy and dreamed of the fun to-morrow.
In the morning Susie rushed out to see if it was good weather. The sun was shining brightly, and she turned and looked at her long shadow that reached clear over the barn. The direction of the shadow was southwest.
Donald took a tin can and went out into one corner of the garden, where the soil was dark, rich, and damp, and with a shovel dug up great mud worms, and almost filled his can.
Frank got out two cane poles, rigged the lines and hooks, and put on the sinkers.
"I want to catch a fish," said Susie.
"All right," said Frank; "we'll cut a pole for you when we get on the island. We shall not fish till we get there."
Uncle Robert watched the enthusiasm of the children with a pleasant smile. Mrs. Leonard and Susie put up the lunch.
"Put in a paper of salt for the fish, please," called Frank.
"Don't believe you will catch many fish," said Mr. Leonard. "You know the last time you went you didn't catch any."
"It is not a good day for fish," said Uncle Robert; "it is too bright."
"We'll get some sunfish, anyway," said Donald, "and perhaps we shall catch a perch or two and a catfish."
At last all was ready Frank took the oars from the beams of the shed, Uncle Robert carried the big basket, Donald followed with the fish poles and the can of worms, while Susie brought up the rear with a small tin bucket.
Away they went, down the slope and over the bottom land to the mouth of the creek, where the boat was moored. Soon they glided out from the shore under Frank's steady stroke.
"We will go up on this side, where it is easier to row," he said. "The current is on the other side next to the bank."
"Why do you suppose the current is over there?" asked Uncle Robert.
"I don't know," said Frank. "Last spring we had a big flood, and the current was so strong that it took away a lot of earth from that bank. The earth fell down into the river and was carried away. Mr. Davis lost a good deal of land."
"Tell me about the flood, Frank," said Uncle Robert.
"Last March the ice broke up in the river and went tearing downstream in great blocks," began Frank. "Just below the dam, between the island and that shore," pointing to the woods, "it piled up until there was a big ice jam. You could cross over to the island on foot. Then the water began to rise until it was nearly even with the top of the dam. At first it went round close to the ridge. You see the land is lower there. The part of our cornfield next to the river was an island. Then the water rose higher, and spread all over the bottom land. It made the mouth of the creek close to the slope, and the water came up around the trunks of the trees.
"On the other side, where the current is, it didn't get over the bank, but it tore away lots of earth. Three big trees fell into the water and were carried down the river. Ever so many trees came down. Peter and I caught a lot and piled them up for firewood."
"Don't you remember, Frank," said Susie, "two or three sheds came down, too?"
"The miller thought it would carry away the mill," said Donald.
"The water looks pretty clear now. How did it look then?" asked Uncle
Robert.
"At first it was clear," said Frank. "Then it got just like coffee."
"That was the dirt in the water," said Donald.
"When the water went down," continued Frank, "the bottom land was all covered with the stuff the river left. Father says the dirt it brought makes the land better."
"What do you suppose made the freshet?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Oh, they said it was the snow melting, away up the river," answered
Donald. "The snow was gone here, but we had lots of rain."
"Where is the deepest part of the river?" asked Uncle Robert.
"It is quite deep on the other side," said Frank, "but it is shallow over here. Farther down it is deeper in the middle."
"Where is the current down there?" asked Uncle Robert.
"In the middle of the river," said Frank.
"When we go in swimming we can wade out here a long ways before we go over our heads," said Donald.
"I wish I could swim," said Susie.
"You should learn," said Uncle Robert. "The boys could easily teach you."
They rowed steadily up the river. At last they reached the island and landed. It was long and narrow, covered with trees and green grass. Here and there low bushes grew down to the water's edge, while at the upper end there were many boulders, stones, pebbles, and clean white sand.
[Illustration: A string of fish.]
They brought up the basket and put it in a cool place under a tree.
"Now for the fishing!" said Frank.
Up the river they could see the dam, and on the left of the dam the flour mill.
"There is a nice big pond up above the dam," said Susie. "We ought to go up there some day."
"I think it is better fishing there," said Frank, "but we would have to drag the boat around the dam."
Uncle Robert stretched himself under the shade of an elm tree. Susie rolled up her sack and put it under his head. The boys went off to try their luck at fishing. They cut a pole for Susie, but she soon tired of sitting still, and came back to pick up sticks for the fire so that everything would be ready to fry the fish.
When the boys came back they brought three little sunfish, two perch, and one funny-looking fish with horns, which Frank said was a catfish.
Frank and Uncle Robert dressed the fish, while Donald rowed across the river to a place where he knew there was a spring, and soon returned with a pail of clear, sparkling water.
Susie spread the cloth in a nice shady place, and unpacked the basket. The eggs were boiled in the tin bucket over the fire. Frank fried the fish, and at last dinner was ready.
"Oh, isn't this fun!" said Susie.
"Grand!" said Frank.
"I'd like to be an Indian and live in the woods all the time," said
Donald.
"We could make a fort," said Frank, "on that bank of the island and mount cannon, and not allow any ships to come up the river."
"Oho!" laughed Donald. "Ships don't come up this river. The water isn't deep enough."
"That doesn't matter," said Susie; "we could play they do."
After the luncheon was over and the basket packed again they sat about under the trees.
"What a good view of the dam there is from here!" said Uncle Robert.
"I know why they built the dam there," said Frank. "Just above the dam the water was quite swift."
"What makes the water swift?" asked Donald.
"Because the bed of the river slopes more there than down here," said Uncle Robert; "and in places on rivers where there are rapids they build dams in order to use the water for the mills."
"Oh, yes, I know how they use the water," said Donald. "They have a sluice, and they lift the gate, and the water comes through, and that turns the mill wheels."
"In some rivers there are ponds larger than that pond up there, where there are no dams," said Uncle Robert.
"Yes," said Frank, "there is a little lake down the river. We will go there some day. It is good fishing. How much better our corn looks than the corn on that hill over there! I tell you, it takes bottom land like ours to raise good corn."
"What makes the corn such a beautiful green?" asked Susie.
"That is quite a question," said Uncle Robert. "We will try and find out some day. But I want to know what makes the bottom land richer than the land up on the prairie?"
"Well," said Frank slowly, "I suppose that the dirt brought down by the river and spread out over it makes it richer."
"Where does that dirt come from?"
"Way up the river."
"If I should call the bottom land a flood-plain," said Uncle Robert, "would you know why?"
"Oh, I know," said Donald. "Because the water covers it when there is a flood."
"Now what made that flood-plain?"
"Wasn't it always there?"
"No," said Uncle Robert. "The river made it."
"How could the river make the flood-plain?" asked Susie.
"Why, you told me a moment ago that the river brought down great quantities of dirt and left it all along the shores," said Uncle Robert.
"But it wouldn't bring down enough to make all that field, would it?" asked Donald.
"The river is a great worker," said Uncle Robert. "It is at work now, and has been working for many, many long years. It has not only made this flood-plain, but many others. Sometimes the river carries this dirt clear out into the sea, and sometimes it piles it up at its mouth so that a delta is formed."
"Oh, yes," said Donald, "we studied about that in geography when we had school, but I didn't know a delta was made that way."
"Are there any deltas in this part of the river?" asked Susie.
"There may be," replied Uncle Robert, "wherever one stream flows into another."
[Illustration: The mill and dam.]
"Is there one at the mouth of our creek?" asked Frank.
"We will look when we go back," replied Uncle Robert. "Shall we take a walk now?"
When they reached the upper end of the island they sat down on some large boulders that formed part of the tiny beach. Just above them was the flood of water pouring over the dam. The bright sunshine made the foam look white and glistening, lighted here and there with colors of the rainbow.
The water rumbled and roared as it rushed out of the mill pond. To the left were the flour mill and the village. They could hear the mill wheel turning. They could see a little white church half hidden among the trees.
A kingfisher swept by them with a voice like a watchman's rattle.
"He knows how to catch fish better than we do," said Donald.
Susie picked up some pebbles and put them in her apron. She tried to get a number of colors. Some were nearly red, some were blue, and some were white.
"Can you find one that is exactly round?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Here's a white one that's almost round," and Susie held up a quartz pebble.
"Where do you suppose this little white pebble came from?" asked Uncle
Robert.
"Did it come from away up the river—a long way?" said Donald.
"I think so. One day this pebble was a part of some rock or quarry. How it was broken off, how it came down, how it was made round, is well worth studying."
"Oh, tell us about it, please," begged Susie.
"We'll read about it together," said Uncle Robert, "in the Big Book."
"What book?" asked Donald.
"The book that lies all around us, which was written by the Creator of the world," said Uncle Robert. "We are reading a page of it now."
"Just under the current out there," said Frank, "the bed of the river is covered with all kinds of stones. Some of them are as big as these boulders. I suppose the river brought them down."
"What do you think makes the pebbles round?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Maybe the river wears off the rough edges," suggested Frank, thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Uncle Robert, "the current of the river rolls them over and over on the river bed, and they rub and grind against each other."
"What becomes of the stuff that is worn off from them?" asked Frank.
"Don't you see it—there?" said Uncle Robert, pointing to the beach.
"Oh, you mean the sand," said Donald, taking up a handful and examining it.
"Is that the way the nice white sand is made?" asked Susie.
"That's what you meant when you said the river worked," said Frank. "Did these boulders come down the river too?"
"The story of the boulders," said Uncle Robert, "is different from the story of the pebbles. The water helped grind the pebbles, but it took ice to make the boulders."
"Ice!" the children all exclaimed.
"Yes, ice. A long, long while ago this land was covered by a great river, or sea of ice, and that was the time these boulders were made," said Uncle Robert.
"Can we read about that in the Big Book?" asked Donald.
"Some of it," said Uncle Robert. "There are many wonderful stories in this beautiful world—stories more wonderful than any fairy tale. But we must go home now, children; it's getting late."
The setting sun threw long shadows of the trees over the river as they rowed home, and the happy day was done.