“When a fellow can smell, he can see with his nose just who has been there�
“I see,� Watch nodded. “Well, then, we’ll just find out who it is and nip his tail for him. Come along.�
Bobby Robin really felt quite comforted when Watch seemed ready to help him—those hundreds and hundreds of birds who weigh down the great elm tree before they get their signal from Mother Nature to fly south are a terrible responsibility. But he didn’t see just exactly what Watch could do about it. He dipped along beside the dog’s long, easy run for a minute or so. Then he broke out again, “But I can’t think who it could have been.â€�
“It was Killer the Weasel or the owls,� Watch answered. “I’ll bet you on it.�
“What’ll you bet?â€� Bobby demanded with a sidewise quirk of his head—that is the way he smiles. “I’m a pretty old bird. I’ve been hunted by weasels and cats and hawks and foxes and big owls and little ones ever since I first grew feathers, but never have I known the like of this.â€�
“I’ll bet you a bone,â€� Watch began. Then he wiped out the idea with a sweep of his tail. “Foolish me! I forgot you haven’t teeth. Well, I’ll bet you a nice soft bread-crust I can lay me paw on. I buried it yesterday—to keep those thieves of chickens from stealing it.â€�
“I’ll take you,� giggled Bobby. “And I’ll bet you a whole nest of furry caterpillars it wasn’t either of them.�
“What’ll I do with the caterpillars?� sniffed Watch. “Wear ’em in my whiskers?�
Bobby just had to laugh, but he got all sober and discouraged again the next minute. “I don’t see how we’re going to decide, anyhow,â€� he sighed. “It happened hours ago—long before the sun began to spread his wings.â€� (Birds say the long streaks you see in the east at sunrise are the sun’s wings flapping before he soars across the sky.) “And it was so crow dark nobody could see anything.â€�
“That doesn’t matter,â€� said Watch cheerfully. “I don’t have to see. Seeing’s no good the minute after a thing has happened. Hearing isn’t any better. But I can smell! M-m-m!â€� he sniffed softly. “And when a fellow can smell he can see with his nose just who has been there and what they did long after they’ve gone. Listen!â€� He laid his nose to the trunk of the Roosting Elm. “Killer!â€� he exclaimed. “Here he climbed up. Here he came down. Here he walked out below this limb. Here—here—owl! Bobby. Plain as day I do smell owl!â€�