"No, it doesn't go back--not a drop," laughed Uncle Robert. "Does it dry up?" asked Donald. "What do you mean by drying up?" "It evap-o-rates," said Donald, who liked to use large words. "Does it all go into the air?" asked Frank. "I want you to answer these questions yourselves, children. What do you see on the corn leaves in the early morning?" "Drops of water; but that is dew, isn't it?" asked Frank. Uncle Robert had a way of stopping or changing the subject when he had asked certain questions. He knew that the children would think of them again and try to answer them. "Let's sit down on this log," said Susie. "I want to fix my flowers." As they sat there squirrels ran up the trunks of the trees and laughed at them from the branches. "That is a good shot," said Frank, pointing to a large fox squirrel. "But he knows we won't kill him, and that's the reason he shows himself." "Is it right to shoot the pretty squirrels, Uncle Robert?" asked Susie. "I thought so when I was a boy. I shot a great many of them then. It was fun for me, and I felt very proud when I brought home half a dozen grays. "Once I went home from the city for a summer's rest. I took my gun for a stroll in the oak woods where I had shot so many squirrels. I put my gun against a tree and lay down upon the leaves. Soon I was fast asleep. I dreamed of a group of merry, laughing children running, scampering, playing." [Illustration: The squirrel] "Then my dream became real--not children, but the gray coats, five or six of them, close to me, were running up the trees, jumping from limb to limb, scampering over the ground, chasing each other, laughing as squirrels laugh, and screaming as squirrels scream. I watched the happy playmates, brim full of fun. I have never shot a squirrel since." 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.