The Tale of Jolly Robin, Arthur Scott Bailey [the unexpected everything .txt] 📗
- Author: Arthur Scott Bailey
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So he travelled to his winter home in the old-fashioned way, after all. And though Jolly Robin laughed when he told his friends about Jasper Jay’s new style of travelling, there was one thing over which he could not smile, even then.
You see, “’fraid-cat” was a name he couldn’t abide.
It was a raw March day when Jolly Robin returned to Pleasant Valley one spring. There had just been a heavy fall of snow—big, wet flakes which Farmer Green called “sugar-snow,” though it was no sweeter than any other. Johnnie Green liked that kind of snow because it made the best snowballs. And he had had a fine time playing in the orchard near the farmhouse, not long before Jolly Robin appeared there.
Now, the orchard was the place where Jolly Robin and his wife had had their nest the summer before. So it was natural 49 that he should want to go there at once and look about a bit.
He perched himself on a bare limb, where he sang “Cheerily-cheerup” a few times, in spite of the snow and the cold, whistling wind. He knew that the weather would grow warmer soon; and he was glad to be in Pleasant Valley once more, though he had to confess to himself that he liked the orchard better when the grass was green and the trees were gay with apple-blossoms.
“It’s really a beautiful place for a home,” he told himself. “I don’t wonder that Farmer Green likes to live near the orchard. And now I’ll just go over to the house and see if I can’t get a peep at him and his wife and his boy, Johnnie—and the hired-man, too.”
So Jolly Robin jumped off the bough and started through the frosty air toward 50 the farmhouse. But all at once he saw a sight that sent him darting into a tree. He hid there for a while and something made him shiver—something besides the cold wind.
Yes! Jolly Robin was the least bit frightened. For he had caught a glimpse of a strange man. It was neither Farmer Green nor his hired-man, for this was a giant. He had big, black eyes and a great lump of a nose, which stuck out queerly from his pale moon-face. He was dressed all in white, except for a battered, old, black hat, which he wore tipped over one eye. In one hand he held a stick. And it seemed to Jolly Robin that the queer man was just about to hurl it at something.
In spite of his uneasiness, Jolly peeped around his tree and watched the stranger. But he did not throw the stick. He stood quite still and seemed to be waiting. And 51 Jolly Robin waited, too, and stared at him.
“Maybe there’s a squirrel hiding behind a tree,” he said to himself. “Perhaps this man in white is going to throw the stick as soon as the squirrel shows himself.”
But no squirrel appeared. And Jolly Robin was just about to start for the farmhouse again when he saw somebody pop out of the woodshed door and come running toward the orchard.
“Here’s Johnnie Green!” Jolly exclaimed. He knew Johnnie at once, because neither Farmer Green nor the hired-man ever went hopping and skipping about like that.
Pretty soon Jolly saw Johnnie Green stop and make an armful of snowballs. And then he went straight toward the stranger in white. Though Johnnie began to shout, the man in white did not 52 even turn his head. And then Johnnie Green shied a snowball at him.
The snowball sailed through the air and struck the stranger’s battered hat, knocking it off into the snow. And, of course, Jolly Robin couldn’t help laughing. He was more surprised than ever, too, because the moon-faced man did not move even then. Anyone else would have wheeled about and chased Johnnie Green. But this odd gentleman didn’t seem to know that his hat had been knocked off.
“That’s queer!” said Jolly Robin to himself. “He must be asleep. But I should think he would wake up.”
While Jolly was wondering, Johnnie Green threw another snowball. And when it struck the stranger a very peculiar thing happened.
And Jolly Robin did not laugh. He was too frightened to do anything but gasp.
Jolly Robin was too frightened to laugh when he saw Johnnie Green’s second snowball strike the moon-faced stranger in the orchard. You see, the snowball hit one of the stranger’s arms. And to Jolly’s amazement, the arm at once dropped off and dashed upon the ground, breaking into a dozen pieces.
That alone was enough to startle Jolly Robin. But the moon-faced man paid not the slightest attention to the accident. There was something ghostly in the way he stood there, all in white, never moving, never once saying a word. 54
But Johnnie Green did not seem frightened at all. He set up a great shouting and began to let fly his snowballs as fast as he could throw them.
They did not all find the mark. But the very last one struck the silent stranger squarely upon his left ear. And to Jolly Robin’s horror, his head toppled off and fell horridly at his feet.
Jolly Robin fully expected the man in white to turn and chase Johnnie Green then—or at least to hurl his stick at Johnnie. But nothing of the sort happened. And Jolly did not wait for anything more. He felt that he had seen quite enough. So he flew away to the shelter of the woods, to find somebody to whom he could talk and tell of the strange thing that had happened in the orchard.
Over in the woods Jolly was lucky enough to meet Jimmy Rabbit, who was 55 always very friendly toward him. And as soon as he had inquired about Jimmy Rabbit’s health (they had not seen each other since the previous fall, you know), Jolly related how he had seen Johnnie Green knock off the head of the man in the orchard.
“And the man never paid the slightest heed to what happened,” said Jolly Robin. “He had a stick in his hand; but he didn’t throw it.”
“There’s nothing queer about that,” Jimmy Rabbit remarked. “How could he see where to throw his stick, when he had no head?”
But Jolly Robin could not answer that question. And he looked more puzzled than ever.
“I don’t understand it,” he said with a shake of his own head. “The whole affair was very odd. I’m afraid I shall not 56 care to live in the orchard this summer, especially if there’s a headless man there! For how can he ever see to leave the orchard?”
It was Jimmy Rabbit’s turn to look puzzled, for that was a question that he couldn’t answer.
“Maybe there is something queer about this case,” he said. “I’ll go over to the orchard to-morrow and take a look at that headless stranger and see what I think about him. If you’ll meet me here we can go together.”
Now, Jolly Robin had almost decided that he would never go near the orchard again. But he felt that if he went with Jimmy Rabbit there ought not to be much danger. So he agreed to Jimmy’s suggestion.
“I’ll be here before the morning’s gone,” he promised.
Jolly Robin awoke at dawn. And he knew at once that the day was going to be a fine one. Though the sun had not yet peeped above the rim of the eastern hills, Jolly Robin was sure that there would be plenty of sunshine a little later. He had many ways of his own for telling the weather; and he never made a mistake about it.
Now, it had grown quite warm by the time Jolly Robin went to the woods late in the morning to meet Jimmy Rabbit. And the snow had melted away as if by magic. 58
“Summer’s coming! Summer’s coming!” Jolly called joyfully as soon as Jimmy Rabbit came hopping into sight. “The apple-blossoms will burst out before we know it.”
“Yes—and the cabbages, too,” Jimmy Rabbit replied. “I’m glad the white giant in the orchard lost his head,” he added, “because there’s no telling what he would have done to the cabbages later, if he had wandered into the garden. He might have eaten every one of them. And I shouldn’t have liked that very well.”
Then they started off together toward the orchard to look at the headless stranger who had given Jolly Robin such a fright the day before. Jimmy Rabbit went bounding along with great leaps, while Jolly Robin flew above him and tried not to go too fast for his long-eared friend.
Once in the orchard, Jolly led Jimmy to 59 the spot where he had seen Johnnie Green knock off the giant’s head with the snowball.
“Here he is!” Jolly Robin whispered—for he was still somewhat afraid of the giant, in spite of his having lost his head. “He doesn’t seem as big as he was yesterday. And he has dropped the stick that he carried.”
Jimmy Rabbit stopped short in his tracks and stared at the still figure under the apple tree. For a few moments he did not speak.
“That looks to me like snow,” he said at last. And he crept up to what was left of the giant and sniffed at him. “It is snow!” he declared.
When he heard that, Jolly Robin flew to a low branch just above the giant.
“I don’t understand it,” he said. “There’s his head on the ground, with the 60 big, black eyes. They certainly aren’t made of snow.”
“No!” Jimmy Rabbit agreed, as he sniffed at the terrible eyes. “They’re butternuts—that’s what they are!”
Well, Jolly Robin was so surprised that he all but tumbled off his perch.
“There’s his hat—” he continued, as he clung to the limb—“that’s a real hat. It’s not made of snow—or butternuts, either.”
“Yes!” Jimmy Rabbit said. “It’s a sure-enough hat. Farmer Green wore it on Sundays for a good many years. I’ve often seen him starting for the meeting-house over the hill with this very hat on his head.”
“Then the giant stole it from him!” Jolly Robin cried in great excitement.
But Jimmy Rabbit thought differently.
“It’s my opinion—” he said—“it’s 61 my opinion that Johnnie Green took this old hat and put it on the giant’s head, after he had made him.”
“Made him!” Jolly Robin repeated. “You don’t mean to say that Johnnie Green could make a giant, do you?”
“Well, he knows how to make a snow-man—so I’ve been told,” Jimmy Rabbit replied. “And though I’ve never seen one before, it’s plain that that’s what this creature is.”
Jolly Robin had listened with growing wonder. Spending his winters in the South, as he did, he had never even heard of a snow-man.
“Are they dangerous—these snow-men?” he inquired anxiously.
“This one certainly isn’t,” Jimmy Rabbit told him. “With his head off, he can’t do any harm. And with the sun shining so warm I should say that by to-morrow 62 he’ll be gone for good. It looks to me as if he might be the last snow-man of the winter, for I don’t believe there’ll be any more snow until next fall.”
“Good!” Jolly Robin cried. “I shall come back to the orchard to live, after all, just as I had intended.” And he felt so happy that he began to sing.
“I’m glad I brought you here to see the snow giant,” he told Jimmy Rabbit, when he had finished his song. “But when my wife and
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