"You'll see that I can," said Bobby. "Red Top can't get the start of
me."

"If you keep him from crowing there to-morrow morning," said John, "I
will give you a dime."

"Goody! I'll do it," said Bobby. "I'll put the dime in the box for my
new express wagon."

Bobby put the alarm clock near his bed. It was set to wake him at four
o'clock.

The next morning, after Red Top had crowed in the hen-house, he went out
into the yard and crowed three times. Then he started toward the house.
Very proudly he strutted along the path.

He was just going around to the side of the house, when Bobby came out
of the back door.

"Shoo, shoo!" said Bobby. "You must not crow near the house this
morning."

And he drove Red Top back toward the corn crib.

"That is too bad," thought Red Top. "They will miss my nice crow. I must
go again."

So he went up the path again toward the little mound. Bobby was watching
and drove him back.

"I will not let you crow here this morning," he said. "Shoo, shoo!"

Six times Red Top tried to get to the little mound. Six times Bobby
drove him back. Finally, he drove him beyond the horse barn.

"Crow for the walnut tree this morning," he said.

"He won't get to the house again very soon," thought Bobby. So he went
over to the strawberry patch to see whether any strawberries were ripe.

Suddenly, in the apple tree, a robin began to sing. A thrush joined him
from a near-by thicket. Birds began chirping in all the trees.

The Eastern sky began to turn golden. The fleecy white clouds began to
look rosy.

Bobby forgot all about the rooster.

Soon there were birds singing everywhere--robins in the apple orchard,
an oriole in the elm tree, swallows flashing through the farmyard,
bluebirds and yellowbirds on every side. Bobolinks skimming over the
clover field, joined the chorus.

Then on a low limb of the crab-apple tree, a meadow lark began to sing.
Bobby tried to find him, but could not see him among the branches. Such
a wonderful song he had never heard.

The Eastern sky was getting more rosy and more golden.

"It must be the sunrise that makes him so happy," thought Bobby. "I wish
I could sing like that."

So there Bobby stood, golden sunrise in the East, singing birds around
him.

Meanwhile, Red Top was quietly making his way to the house. As far as
the wood-pile he came, and Bobby did not drive him back. As far as the
pump he came.

"I'll soon be there," he thought.

A roost