warm rain fell, the obstinate snow melted into great brooks. Then came
the sun and dried up all the brooks, and everywhere the new young grass
sprang up over the meadows.

The four boys came across the big street of the village and turned into
the meadow. They were pulling along the cart, on which lay the cooking
utensils which the farmer's wife had just purchased at the annual fair in
the village. The boys had followed their mother's command to go slowly
and carefully, so that nothing would be broken, for they knew very well
that their mother set great store by these things, and it was worth while
to follow her instructions.

Now that they had come safely over the rough street and had turned into
the meadow road, two pulling, two pushing, they wanted to rest a little
while. They stopped under the first large pear-tree, stretched
themselves out on the ground and looked up into the blue sky. In the
pear-tree above, the birds were singing merrily together, and suddenly
one piped up in the midst of the others, always the same note, exactly as
if he had a special call to give.

"There he is," cried Sami, springing up from the ground with delight.
Then he listened again, and again sounded the staccato call, clear and
sharp above the singing of all the other birds.

"Do you hear it? Do you hear it?" cried Sami in his delight. "Now he is
calling again: 'Trust! Trust! Trust! Trust!' And then they all sing
together: 'Only trust the dear Lord!'"

"You are just talking nonsense!" exclaimed Stoeffi to the happy Sami. "The
bird is more knowing than you are. That is the rain bird; I know him