Their dance over, the Mate Hares skipped down to the meadow, where the dew lay thick upon the clover. "How good!" they said, as they nibbled and munched. "So sweet and tender, with the dew upon it!" "Who would eat dry seeds like the Bob Whites?" said one. "And go to sleep at dusk!" snickered another. "And whistle all day!" said a third. "As much as to say to all men and dogs, 'Here I am, come and shoot me;' so silly! Oh, there's no family like the Mate Hares for sense; come, let's have another dance." So they skipped and hopped and munched clover until the dawn sent them scudding away to their homes. Well, at last, upon a sunny June morning, the lonely field was no longer lonely, neither was it quiet; for the grain was ripe and the reapers had come. Yes, the reapers had come, and with them came Nip. Yes, there he was, showing that ugly little red tongue of his, and poking his black nose into every hole and bush; no place was safe from those inquisitive eyes and sharp little cruel teeth. Mr. Bob watched him with a fluttering heart, as he ran sniffing about; suddenly, there came a sharp yelp, and then Mrs. Mate Hare's cotton tail went flying over rock and brier, followed by Nip, with his short, inadequate legs. Soon, however, he tired of this fun, and, trotting back, cocked his ears at the brier patch, sniffed about it, and crept in. Bob White, with an anxious call, flew into a tree. "He's got a nest somewhere about there," said one of the reapers. "I bet it's full of eggs," he added. "Yes, but the boss has give orders that they ain't to be tetched," said another. Then there came from the thicket a growl and a yelp, and Mrs. Bob, with a loud whirr, flew to her mate. "Nip's got 'em!" cried one of the men, and, picking up a stone, he ran to the thicket, from whence now issued yelps of anguish. "He'll not trouble them again, I reckon," the man said, with a grin, as he picked up his scythe. Nip trotted home with a crestfallen and dejected air, but the Bob Whites, still agitated, remained in the tree, with necks craned anxiously toward the nest. When, at length, Mrs. Bob found courage to return, the melancholy sight met her eyes of three broken eggs, some more scattered ones, and a generally disordered nest. Bob now came to her assistance, the scattered eggs were put back, the nest repaired, and Mrs. Bob contentedly seated herself upon it.