He knows those silly Ducks come in here every night
for that corn he puts out. He knows that after
they have been here a few times and nothing has frightened
them, they will be so sure that it is a safe place
that they will not be the least bit suspicious.
Then he will hide behind those bushes he has placed
close to the edge of the water and wait for them with
his terrible gun. That is what he will do, or
my name isn’t Blacky.”
Finally Blacky decided to drop a hint to Dusky the
Black Duck. So the next morning he stopped for
a call. “Good morning,” said he,
as Dusky swam in just in front of him. “I
hope you are feeling as fine as you look.”
“Quack, quack,” replied Dusky. “When
Blacky the Crow flatters, he hopes to gain something.
What is it this time?”
“Not a thing,” replied Blacky. “On
my honor, not a thing. There is nothing for
me here, though there seems to be plenty for you and
your relatives, to judge by the fact that I find you
in this same place every morning. What is it?”
“Corn,” replied Dusky in a low voice,
as if afraid some one might overhear him. “Nice
yellow corn.”
“Corn” exclaimed Blacky, as if very much
astonished. “How does corn happen to be
way over here in the water?”
Dusky shook his head. “Don’t ask
me, for I can’t tell you,” said he.
“I haven’t the least idea. All I
know is that every evening when we arrive, we find
it here. How it gets here, I don’t know,
and furthermore I don’t care. It is enough
for me that it is here.”
“I’ve seen a man over here every afternoon,”
said Blacky. “I thought he might be a
hunter.”
“Did he have a terrible gun?” asked Dusky
suspiciously.
“No-o,” replied Blacky.
“Then he isn’t a hunter,” declared
Dusky, looking much relieved.
“But perhaps one of these days he will have
one and will wait for you to come in for your dinner,”
suggested Blacky. “He could hide behind
these bushes, you know.”
“Nonsense,” retorted Dusky, tossing his
head. “There hasn’t been a sign
of danger here since we have been here. I know
you, Blacky; you are jealous because we find plenty
to eat here, and you find nothing. You are trying
to scare us. But I’ll tell you right now,
you can’t scare us away from such splendid eating
as we have had here. So there!”
Who for another conquers fear
Is truly brave, it is most clear.
— Blacky the Crow.
It was late in the afternoon, and Blacky the Crow
was on his way to the Green Forest. As usual,
he went around by the Big River to see if that man
was scattering corn for the Ducks. He wasn’t
there. No one was to be seen along the bank
of the Big River.
“He hasn’t come to-day, or else he came
early and has left,” thought Blacky. And
then his sharp eyes caught sight of something that
made him turn aside and make straight for a certain
tree, from the top of which he could see all that
went on for a long distance. What was it Blacky
saw? It was a boat coming down the Big River.
