A good deal of applause greeted his words. But
some of the older and wiser of his listeners shook
their heads.
“Who is there that could take Mr. Crow’s
place?” a voice called.
At that question the stranger coughed slightly and
said:
“Of course, I wouldn’t suggest any one
specially, being a newcomer here myself. And
if the position were offered to me, I don’t know
that I could accept it, though I have had so
much experience.”
The young fellows on the limb with Mr. Crow at once
set up a great cawing.
“We want you!” they chanted. Old
Mr. Crow might have been a scarecrow, for all the
attention they paid to him. And he did not dare
open his mouth. Many others took up the cry.
And a great hub-bub arose—a beating of
wings, and flying up and down, and jostling. Some
of the younger ones squawked like chickens; others
pretended to cry like children. But most of the
company cawed in their loudest tones, until the whole
valley rang with the uproar.
Then one of old Mr. Crow’s best friends spoke
up and said:
“It’s plain that a good many people want
you for a leader, stranger.”
“Then I’d be very happy to act as such,”
the bold fellow replied. “And I’ll
begin at once.”
But the elderly person who had just spoken said that
there was no hurry and that the stranger ought first
to be put to a test.
“We want to make sure that you’re a good
leader,” he explained. “And I would
suggest that you go to see Farmer Green to-morrow,
tell him that we object to his putting tar on his
corn, and ask him not to do it again next spring.”
The stranger looked somewhat uneasy, as he listened.
But after he had pondered for a few moments he said
briskly:
“I’ll do that! I’ll go to Farmer
Green to-morrow (he won’t be busy, for to-morrow’s
Sunday), and I’ll make him agree to what you
want.”
“We’ll meet again on Monday, at sunset,”
Mr. Crow’s friend announced.
And then the meeting broke up in the wildest disorder.
As for old Mr. Crow, he crept away without speaking
to anyone. And always, before, he had made more
noise than any ten of the others.
THE WHITE FLAG
Unhappy Mr. Crow could scarcely eat a mouthful of
food after that meeting on Saturday night, when he
found the stranger talking to the gathering.
He was worried, because he knew that if the stranger
succeeded in getting Farmer Green to promise that
he would not put tar on his corn the following spring,
everybody would choose the newcomer to be the leader
of all the crows in Pleasant Valley. And that
was an honor that old Mr. Crow had had for years.
For two whole days he sulked at home. He wouldn’t
even go to his door when anybody knocked. But
on Monday evening Mr. Crow was the first to reach
the meeting-place in the pine woods, long before sunset.
He sat himself down in the leader’s seat.
And there he intended to stay as long as he could.
