266 
NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 
to understand. Ho! Uncle John! Please come 
here. There’s a bird asking you to fiddle-iddle- 
iddle. Evidently he has a fancy for listening to 
one of your concerts.” 
Uncle John came to the door, but instead of 
his violin he carried a book. Plainly he, too, was 
not in the humor for “ fiddling.” “ Where is the 
gentleman? ” he asked. 
“ Out in the bushes there somewhere,” Max 
returned. “ He seems to be loath to show him¬ 
self, and I do not recognize his call. Dick-fiddle- 
iddle-iddle! Did you ever hear of such a fel¬ 
low?” 
“ Often,” smiled Uncle John, “ and Pm sure 
you would recognize him, too, if he were to send 
in his card. It reads ‘ Mr. Dick-fiddle Che- 
wink.’ ” 
“What!” exclaimed Max, surprised. “The 
chewink! That industrious little chap that 
Grandfather calls the ground robin? ” 
“ The same,” Uncle John nodded confirmingly. 
“ Some people name him the towhee. In the far 
south a white-eyed species is called the grasel. 
Four-and-twenty of them make a splendid pie.” 
“ But, Uncle John, I’ve flushed the chewink 
countless times,” argued the boy. “ He always 
darts into the bushes with a whir of wings, and a 
flirt of his long tail, and I never heard him say 
anything but kriink or towhee. Sometimes when 
