use."

Then Uncle Wiggily made up the camp fire again, putting on some more wood,
and he boiled the coffee, in a tomato can, and fried some pieces of bacon
he had in his valise. The way he cooked them was to take a sharp stick and
put a piece of bacon on the end of it, and then he held the bacon up in
front of the blaze, where it sizzled away, and got nice and curly and
brown, and oh! how good it did smell, and so did the coffee! Oh! it's
great to cook over a camp fire when the smoke doesn't get in your eyes and
when it doesn't rain.

"Now we must put out the fire," said the rabbit, as he and the pussy were
ready to go look for the clothespin house.

"Why must we do that, Uncle Wiggily?"

"Oh, so that it will not set fire to the woods, and burn down the nice
trees after we are gone. Always put out your camp fire when you leave it,"
said the rabbit, as he threw water on the blaze, making clouds of steam.

Well, he and the pussy traveled on for some time longer together, but
somehow or other they couldn't seem to find the place where the pussy
lived, and the little cat was beginning to be sorry that she had gone
camping in the woods.

"Oh, I know I'll never find my home again!" she cried.

"Oh, yes, we will," said the rabbit kindly. "Don't worry."

And just then they heard some one else crying, a little, tiny, sobbing
voice.

"What's that?" exclaimed the pussy. "Perhaps it is one of the
skillery-scalery alligator's children."

"No, I do not think so," said the rabbit. "It sounds to me as if some one
else were lost in the woods, and I may have to find their home, too. We'll
take a look."

So they looked all around, but they couldn't seem to find any one, though
the crying was still to be heard.

"That's queer," said the rabbit, "I'll call to them."

So he called as loudly as he could like this:

"Is any one lost? Do you want me to help you find your home?"

"Oh, I'd be very glad to have you help me," said the crying voice, "but I
am not lost."

"Then who are you, and what is the matter?" asked the rabbit.

"Oh, I am a robin bird," was the answer, "and I am in this bush over your
heads."

"Ha, no wonder we couldn't see you," said the rabbit, as he and the pussy
looked up, and there, sure enough, was the nice mamma robin bird, and she
was crying, as she sat in the bush.

"What is the matter?" asked the rabbit.

"I will tell you," said the robin. "You know there is a bird called the
cowbird or cuckoo