"To be sure, to be sure!" answered Father Bear.
"But don't wander far from Friend Deer," warned his mother as she kissed Little Bear good-by.
Straight to the edge of the forest bounded Father Deer, with Little Bear close at his heels. When the two were near the wheat field they heard a brown bird singing in sweet tones, "Bob White! Bob White!"
Little Bear didn't go too near for fear of scaring the babies
"He is a fine fellow, that quail who calls himself Bob White," said Father Deer. It was the first time he had spoken. Plump Little Bear was nearly out of breath trying to keep pace with Mr. Deer of the long legs, so he was glad to stop for a short talk.
"That gentle bird works for the farmer all the year," Father Deer continued, as he stood beside Little Bear, looking through the bushes back of the stone wall surrounding the wheat field. "During the summer he works twelve hours a day destroying all kinds of bugs and worms. He eats hundreds of garden bugs at a time, Little Bear!"
"I suppose he has to eat enough to last while he sleeps all winter," suggested Little Bear, looking wise.
"Quail do not sleep all winter, and neither do our folks!" corrected Father Deer. "During the delightful winters when you bears are all tucked away in bed, sleeping as if you never intend to wake up, Bob White dines on weed seeds. He has been known to eat five thousand weed seeds at one meal!"
Soon Father Deer led Little Bear to Bob White's home, and introduced him to the family—Bob White, Mrs. Bob White, and their eighteen children. Their nest was on the ground in the fence corner. Little Bear didn't go too near for fear of scaring the babies, who, with their beady black eyes, looked like balls of down.