CAUGHT!
Whatever or whoever it was that had entered Chirpy Cricket’s home—the hole in the ground near Farmer Green’s barn—it caused him a terrible fright. It kept poking him in a most alarming fashion. Chirpy couldn’t move away from it, for his home was only big enough for himself alone. And since he didn’t care to share it with another, he soon made up his mind that there was only one thing for him to do. He would quit his house for the time being, with the hope of finding it empty later. Indeed Chirpy Cricket thought he would be lucky to escape in safety. So he scrambled up into the daylight, to be greeted with a shout and a pounce, both at the same time. And Chirpy Cricket saw, too late, that it was a creature much bigger than a hen that had captured him. It was Johnnie Green!
Of course Johnnie himself had not entered Chirpy’s underground home. What he had done was merely to run a straw into the hole where Chirpy lived and prod him with it until he came out.
“Aha!” said Johnnie Green as he looked at his prisoner, whom he held gingerly between a finger and a thumb. “Are you the rascal that keeps me awake at night with your everlasting noise?”
Chirpy Cricket never said a word.
“You make racket enough every night,” Johnnie told him. “Can’t you answer now when you’re spoken to?”
Still Chirpy Cricket made no reply. He waved his feelers frantically and tried to jump out of Johnnie Green’s grasp. But no matter how fast he moved his six legs, he couldn’t get away.
“You don’t seem to like me,” said his captor finally. “You don’t act as if you wanted to play with me.... What will you do for me if I let you go?”
But not a word did Chirpy Cricket say—not one single word!
“You’re a queer one,” Johnnie Green told him. “You might fiddle for me, at least—though I must say I don’t care for the tune you always play. I can get better music out of a cornstalk fiddle than I’ve ever heard from you or any of your family.”