Over in the West, jolly, round, red Mr. Sun started to go to bed behind the Purple Hills, and the Black Shadows came creeping out. Far down the Big River the hunter saw a swiftly moving black line just above the water. "Here they come," he muttered, as he eagerly watched that black line draw nearer.

Twice those big black birds circled around over the Big River opposite where the hunter was crouching behind his blind. It was plain that Dusky, their leader, remembered Blacky's warning the night before. But this time there was no warning. Everything appeared safe. Once more the flock circled and then headed straight for that place where they hoped to find more corn. The hunter crouched lower. They were almost near enough for him to shoot when "bang, bang" went a gun a short distance away.

Instantly Dusky and his flock turned and on swift wings swung off and up the river. If ever there was a disappointed hunter, it was the one crouching in that blind. "Somebody else is hunting, and he spoiled my shot that time," he muttered. "He must have a blind farther down. Probably some other Ducks I didn't see came in to him. I wonder if he got them. Here's hoping that next time those Ducks come in here first."

He once more made himself comfortable and settled down for a long wait. The Black Shadows crept out from the farther bank of the Big River. Jolly, round red Mr. Sun had gone to bed, and the first little star was twinkling high overhead. It was very still and peaceful. From out in the middle of the Big River sounded a low "quack"; Dusky and his flock were swimming in this time. Presently the hunter could see a silver line on the water, and then he made out nine black spots. In a few minutes those Ducks would be where he could shoot them. "Bang, bang" went that gun below him again. With a roar of wings, Dusky and his flock were in the air and away. That hunter stood up and said things, and they were not nice things. He knew that those Ducks would not come back again that night, and that once more he must go home empty-handed. But first he would find out who that other hunter was and what luck he had had, so he tramped down the shore to where that gun had seemed to be. He found the blind of Farmer Brown's boy, but there was no one there. You see, as soon as he had fired his gun the last time, Farmer Brown's boy had slipped out and away. And as he tramped across the Green Meadows toward home with his gun, he chuckled. "He didn't get those Ducks this time," said Farmer Brown's boy.



CHAPTER XXVII: The Hunter Gives Up

Blacky The Crow didn't know what to think. He couldn't make himself believe that Farmer Brown's boy had really turned hunter, yet what else could he believe? Hadn't he with his own eyes seen Farmer Brown's boy with a terrible gun hide in rushes along the Big River and wait for Dusky the Black Duck and his flock to come in? And hadn't he with his own ears heard the "bang, bang" of that very gun?

The very first thing the next morning Blacky had hastened over to the place where Farmer Brown's boy had hidden in the rushes. With sharp eyes he looked for feathers, that would tell the tale of a Duck killed. But there were no feathers. There wasn't a thing to show that anything so dreadful had happened. Perhaps Farmer Brown's boy had missed when he shot at those Ducks. Blacky shook his head and decided to say nothing to anybody about Farmer Brown's boy and that terrible gun.

You may be sure that early in the afternoon he was perched in the top of his favorite tree over by the Big River. His heart sank, just as on the afternoon before, when he saw Farmer Brown's boy with his terrible gun trudging across the Green Meadows to the Big River. Instead of going to the same hiding place he made a new one farther down.

Then came the hunter a little earlier than usual. Instead of stopping at his blind, he walked straight to the blind Farmer Brown's boy had first made. Of course, there was no one there. The hunter looked both glad and disappointed. He went back to his own blind and sat down, and while he watched for the coming of the Ducks, he also watched that other blind to see if the unknown hunter of the night before would appear. Of course he didn't, and when at last the hunter saw the Ducks coming, he was sure that this time he would get some of them.

But the same thing happened as on the night before. Just as those Ducks were almost near enough, a gun went "bang, bang," and away went the Ducks. They didn't come back again, and once more a disappointed hunter went home without any.

The next afternoon he was on hand very early. He was there before Farmer Brown's boy arrived, and when he did come, of course the hunter saw him. He walked down to where Farmer Brown's boy was hiding in the rushes. "Hello!" said he. "Are you the one who was shooting here last night and the night before?"

Farmer Brown's boy grinned. "Yes," said he.

"What luck did you have?" asked the hunter.

"Fine," replied Farmer Brown's boy.

"How many Ducks did you get?" asked the hunter.

Farmer Brown's boy grinned more broadly than before. "None," said he. "I guess I'm not a very good shot."

"Then what did you mean by saying you had fine luck?" demanded the hunter.

"Oh," replied Farmer Brown's boy, "I had the luck to see those Ducks and the fun of shooting," and he grinned again.

The hunter lost patience. He tried to order Farmer Brown's boy away. But the latter said he had as much right there as the hunter had, and the hunter knew that this was so. Finally he gave up, and muttering angrily, he went back to his blind. Again the gun of Farmer Brown's boy frightened away the Ducks just as they were coming in.

The next afternoon there was no hunter nor the next, though Farmer Brown's boy was there. The hunter had decided that it was a waste of time to hunt there while Farmer Brown's boy was about.



CHAPTER XXVIII: Blacky Has A Talk With Dusky The Black Duck

Doubt not a friend, but to the last Grip hard on faith and hold it fast. —Blacky the Crow.

Every morning Blacky the Crow visited the rushes along the shore of the Big River, hoping to find Dusky the Black Duck. He was anxious, was Blacky. He feared that Dusky or some of his flock had been killed, and he wanted to know. You see, he knew that Farmer Brown's boy had been shooting over there. At last, early one morning, he found Dusky and his flock in the rushes and wild rice. Eagerly he counted them. There were nine. Not one was missing. Blacky sighed with relief and dropped down on the shore close to where Dusky was taking a nap.

"Hello!" said Blacky.

Dusky awoke with a start. "Hello, yourself," said he.

"I've heard a terrible gun banging over here, and I was afraid you or some of your flock had been shot," said Blacky.

"We haven't lost a feather," declared Dusky. "That gun wasn't fired at us, anyway."

"Then who was it fired at?" demanded Blacky.

"I haven't the least idea," replied Dusky.

"Have you seen any other Ducks about here?" inquired Blacky.

"Not one," was Dusky's prompt reply. "If there had been any, I guess we would have known it."

"Did you know that when that terrible gun was fired there was another terrible gun right over behind those bushes?" asked Blacky.

Dusky shook his head. "No," said he, "but I learned long ago that where there is one terrible gun there is likely to be more, and so when I heard that one bang, I led my flock away from here in a hurry. We didn't want to take any chances."

"It is a lucky thing you did," replied Blacky. "There was a hunter hiding behind those bushes all the time. I warned you of him once."

"That reminds me that I haven't thanked you," said Dusky. "I knew there was something wrong over here, but I didn't know what. So it was a hunter. I guess it is a good thing that I heeded your warn-ing."

"I guess it is," retorted Blacky dryly. "Do you come here in daytime instead of night now?"

"No," replied Dusky. "We come in after dark and spend the night here. There is nothing to fear from hunters after dark. We've given up coming here until late in the evening. And since we did that, we haven't heard a gun."

Blacky gossiped a while longer, then flew off to look for his breakfast; and as he flew his heart was light. His shrewd little eyes twinkled.

"I ought to have known Farmer Brown's boy better than even to suspect him," thought he. "I know now why he had that terrible gun. It was to frighten those Ducks away so that the hunter would not have a chance to shoot them. He wasn't shooting at anything. He just fired in the air to scare those Ducks away. I know it just as well as if I had seen him do it. I'll never doubt Farmer Brown's boy again. And I'm glad I didn't say a word to anybody about seeing him with a terrible gun."

Blacky was right. Farmer Brown's boy had taken that way of making sure that the hunter who had first baited those Ducks with yellow corn scattered in the rushes in front of his hiding place should have no chance to kill any of them. While appearing to be an enemy, he really had been a friend of Dusky the Black Duck and his flock.



CHAPTER XXIX: Blacky Discovers An Egg

Blacky is fond of eggs, as you know. In this he is a great deal like other people, Farmer Brown's boy for instance. But as Blacky cannot keep hens, as Farmer Brown's boy does, he is obliged to steal eggs or else go without. If you come right down to plain, everyday truth, I suppose Blacky isn't so far wrong when he insists that he is no more of a thief than Farmer Brown's boy. Blacky says that the eggs which the bens lay belong to the hens, and that he, Blacky has just as much right to take them as Farmer Brown's boy. He quite overlooks the fact that Farmer Brown's boy feeds the biddies and takes the eggs as pay. Anyway, that is what Farmer Brown's boy says, but I do not know whether or not the biddies understand it that way.

So Blacky the Crow cannot see why he should not help himself to an egg when he gets the chance. He doesn't get the chance very often to steal eggs from the hens, because usually they lay their eggs in the henhouse, and Blacky is too suspicious to venture inside. The eggs he does get are mostly those of his neighbors in the Green Forest and the Old Orchard. But once in a great while some foolish hen will make a nest outside the henhouse somewhere, and if Blacky happens to find it the black scamp watches every minute he can spare from other mischief for a chance to steal an egg.

Now Blacky knows just what a rogue Farmer Brown's boy thinks he is, and for this reason Blacky is very careful about approaching Farmer Brown or any other man until he has made sure that he runs no risk of being shot. Blacky knows quite as well as any one what a gun looks like. He also knows that without a terrible gun, there is little Farmer Brown or any one else can do to him. So when he sees Farmer Brown out in his fields, Blacky often will fly right over him and shout "Caw, caw, caw, ca-a-w!" in the most provoking way, and Fanner Brown's boy insists that he has seen Blacky wink when he was doing it.

But Blacky doesn't do anything of this kind around the buildings of Farmer Brown. You see, he has learned that there are doors and windows in buildings, and out of one of these a terrible gun may bang at any time. Though he has suspected that Farmer Brown's boy would not now try to harm him, Blacky is naturally cautious and takes no chances. So when he comes spying around Farmer Brown's house and barn, he does it when he is quite sure that no one is about, and he makes no noise about it. First he sits in a tall tree from which he can watch Farmer Brown's home. When he is quite sure that the way is clear, he flies over to the Old Orchard, and from there he inspects the barnyard, never once making a sound. If he is quite sure that no one is about, he sometimes drops down into the henyard and helps himself to corn, if any happens to be there. It was on one of these silent visits that Blacky spied something which he couldn't forget. It was a box just inside the henhouse door. In the box was some hay and in that hay he was sure that he had seen an egg. In fact, he was sure that he saw two eggs there. He might not have noticed them but for the fact that a hen had jumped down from that box, making a terrible fuss. She didn't seem frightened, but very proud. What under the sun she had to be proud about Blacky couldn't understand, but he didn't stay to find out. The noise she was making made him nervous. He was afraid that it would bring some one to find out what was going on. So he spread his black wings and flew away as silently as he had come.

As he was flying away he saw those eggs. You see, as he rose into the air, he managed to pass that open door in such a way that he could glance in. That one glance was enough. You know Blacky's eyes are very sharp. He saw the hay in the box and the two eggs in the hay, and that was enough for him. From that instant Blacky the Crow began to scheme and plan to get one or both of those eggs. It seemed to him that he never, never, had wanted anything quite so much, and he was sure that he would not and could not be happy until he succeeded in getting one.



CHAPTER XXX: Blacky Screws Up His Courage

If out of sight, then out of mind. This is a saying which you often hear. It may be true sometimes, but it is very far from true at other times. Take the case of Blacky. He had had only a glance into that nest just inside the door of Farmer Brown's henhouse, but that glance had been enough to show him two eggs there. Then, as he flew away toward the Green Forest, those eggs were out of sight, of course. But do you think they were out of mind? Not much! No, indeed! In fact, those eggs were very much in Blacky's mind. He couldn't think of anything else. He flew straight to a certain tall pine-tree in a lonely part of the Green Forest. Whenever Blacky wants to think or to plan mischief, he seeks that particular tree, and in the shelter of its broad branches he keeps out of sight of curious eyes, and there he sits as still as still can be.

"I want one of those eggs," muttered Blacky, as he settled himself in comfort on a certain particular spot on a certain particular branch of that tall pine-tree. Indeed, that particular branch might well be called the "mischief branch," for on it Blacky has thought out and planned most of the mischief he is so famous for. "Yes, sir," he continued, "I want one of those eggs, and what is more, I am going to have one."

He half closed his eyes and tipped his head back and swallowed a couple of times, as if he already tasted one of those eggs.

"There is more in one of those eggs than in a whole nestful of Welcome Robin's eggs. It is a very long time since I have been lucky enough to taste a hen's egg, and now is my chance. I don't like having to go inside that henhouse, even though it is barely inside the door. I'm suspicious of doors. They have a way of closing most unexpectedly. I might see if I cannot get Unc' Billy Possum to bring one of those eggs out for me. But that plan won't do, come to think of it, because I can't trust Unc' Billy. The old sinner is too fond of eggs himself. I would be willing to divide with him, but he would be sure to eat his first, and I fear that it would taste so good that he would eat the other. No. I've got to get one of those eggs myself. It is the only way I can be sure of it.

"The thing to do is to make sure that Farmer Brown's boy and Farmer Brown himself are nowhere about. They ought to be down in the cornfield pretty soon. With them down there, I have only to watch my chance and slip in. It won't take but a second. Just a little courage, Blacky, just a little courage! Nothing in this world worth having is gained without some risk. The thing to do is to make sure that the risk is as small as possible."

Blacky shook out his feathers and then flew out of the tall pine-tree as silently as he had flown into it. He headed straight toward Farmer Brown's cornfield. When he was near enough to see all over the field, he dropped down to the top of a fence post, and there he waited. He didn't have long to wait. In fact, he had been there but a few minutes when he spied two people coming down the Long Lane toward the cornfield. He looked at them sharply, and then gave a little sigh of satisfaction. They were Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy. Presently they reached the cornfield and turned into it. Then they went to work, and Blacky knew that so far as they were concerned, the way was clear for him to visit the henyard.

He didn't fly straight there. Oh, my, no! Blacky is too clever to do anything like that. He flew toward the Green Forest. When he knew that he was out of sight of those in the cornfield, he turned and flew over to the Old Orchard, and from the top of one of the old apple-trees he studied the henyard and the barnyard and Farmer Brown's house and the barn, to make absolutely sure that there was no danger near. When he was quite sure, he silently flew down into the henyard as he had done many times before. He pretended to be looking for scattered grains of corn, but all the time he was edging nearer and nearer to the open door of the henhouse. At last he could see the box with the hay in it. He walked right up to the open door and peered inside. There was nothing to be afraid of that he could see. Still he hesitated. He did hate to go inside that door, even for a minute, and that is all it would take to fly up to that nest and get one of those eggs.

Blacky closed his eyes for just a second, and when he did that he seemed to see himself eating one of those eggs. "What are you afraid of?" he muttered to himself as he opened his eyes. Then with a hurried look in all directions, he flew up to the edge of the box. There lay the two eggs!



CHAPTER XXXI: An Egg That Wouldn't Behave

If you had an egg and it wouldn't behave Just what would you do with that egg, may I ask? To make an egg do what it don't want to do Strikes me like a difficult sort of a task.

All of which is pure nonsense. Of course. Who ever heard of an egg either behaving or misbehaving? Nobody. That is, nobody that I know, unless it be Blacky. It is best not to mention eggs in Blacky's presence these days. They are a forbidden topic when he is about. Blacky is apt to be a little resentful at the mere mention of an egg. I don't know as I wholly blame him. How would you feel if you knew you knew all there was to know about a thing, and then found out that you didn't know anything at all? Well, that is the way it is with Blacky the Crow.

If any one had told Blacky that he didn't know all there is to know about eggs, he would have laughed at the idea. Wasn't he, Blacky, hatched from an egg himself? And hadn't he, ever since he was big enough, hunted eggs and stolen eggs and eaten eggs? If he didn't know about eggs, who did? That is the way he would have talked before his visit to Farmer Brown's henhouse. It is since then that it has been unwise to mention eggs.

When Blacky saw the two eggs in the nest in Farmer Brown's henhouse how Blacky did wish that he could take both. But he couldn't. One would be all that he could manage. He must take his choice and go away while the going was good. Which should he take?

It often happens in this life that things which seem to be unimportant, mere trifles in themselves, prove to be just the opposite. Now, so far as Blacky could see, it didn't make the least difference which egg he took, excepting that one was a little bigger than the other. As a matter of fact, it made all the difference in the world. One was brown and very good to look at. The other, the larger of the two, was white and also very good to look at. In fact, Blacky thought it the better of the two to look at, for it was very smooth and shiny. So, partly on this account, and partly because it was the largest, Blacky chose the white egg. He seized it in his claws and started to fly with it, but somehow he could not seem to get a good grip on it. He fluttered to the ground just outside the door, and there he got a better grip. Just as old Dandy-cock the Rooster, with head down and all the feathers on his neck standing out with anger, came charging at him, Blacky rose into the air and started over the Old Orchard toward the Green Forest.

Never had Blacky felt more like cawing at the top of his lungs. You see, he felt that he had been very smart, and I suspect that he also felt that he had been very brave. He would have liked to boast a little. But he didn't. He wisely held his tongue. It would be time enough to do his boasting after he had reached a place of safety and had eaten that egg. He was halfway across the Old Orchard when he felt that egg beginning to slip. Now at best it isn't easy to carry an egg without breaking it. You know how very careful you have to be. Just imagine how Blacky felt when that egg began to slip. Do what he would, he couldn't get a better grip on it. It slipped a wee bit more. Blacky started down towards the ground. But he wasn't quick enough. Striped Chipmunk, watching Blacky from the old stone wall, saw something white drop from Blacky's claws. He saw Blacky dash after it and clutch at it only to miss it. Then the white thing struck a branch of an old apple tree, bounced off and fell to the ground. Blacky followed it.

Striped Chipmunk stole very softly through the grass to see what Blacky was doing. Blacky was standing close beside a white thing that looked very much like an egg. He was looking at it with the queerest expression.

Now and then he would reach out and rap it sharply with his bill, and then look as if he didn't know what to make of it. He didn't. That egg wasn't behaving right. It should have broken when it hit the branch of the apple tree. Certainly it should have broken when he struck it that way with his bill. However was he to eat that egg, if he couldn't break the shell? Blacky didn't know.



CHAPTER XXXII: What Blacky Did With The Stolen Egg

Blacky was puzzled. He didn't know what to make of that egg he had stolen from Farmer Brown's henhouse. It wasn't like any egg he ever had seen or even heard of. It was a beautiful-looking egg, and he had been sure that it would taste as good, quite as good as it looked. Even now he wasn't sure that if he could only taste it, it would be all that he had hoped. But how could he taste it, when he couldn't break that shell? He never had heard of such a shell. He doubted if anybody else ever had, either. He had hammered at it with his stout bill until he was afraid that he would break that, instead of the egg. The more he tried to break into it and couldn't, the hungrier he grew, and the more certain that nothing else in all the world could possibly taste so good. But the Old Orchard was not the place for him to work on that egg. In the first place, it was too near Farmer Brown's house. This made Blacky uneasy. You see, he had something of a guilty conscience. Not that he felt at all a sense of having done wrong. To his way of thinking, if he were smart enough to get that egg, he had just as much right to it as any one else, particularly Farmer Brown's boy. Yet he wasn't at all sure that Farmer Brown's boy would look at the matter quite that way. In fact, he had a feeling that Farmer Brown's boy would call him a thief if he should be discovered with that egg. Then, too, there were too many sharp eyes in the Old Orchard. He wanted to get away where he could be sure of being alone. Then if he couldn't break that shell, no one would be the wiser. So he picked up the egg and flew straight over to the Green Forest, and this time he managed to get there without dropping it.

Now you would never suspect Blacky the Crow, he of the sharp wits and crafty ways, of being amused by bright things, would you? But he is. In fact, Blacky is quite like a little child in this matter. Anything that is bright and shiny interests Blacky right away. If he finds anything of this kind, he will take it away to a certain secret place, and there he will admire it and play with it and finally hide it. If I didn't know that it isn't so, because it couldn't possibly be so, I should think that Blacky was some relation to certain small boys I know. Always their pockets are filled with all sorts of useless odds and ends which they have picked up here and there. Blacky has no pockets, so he keeps his treasures of this kind in a secret hiding-place, a sort of treasure storehouse. He visits this secretly every day, uncovers his treasures, and gloats over them and plays with them, then carefully covers them up again. First Blacky took this egg over near his home, and there he once more tried and tried and tried to break the shell. But the shell wouldn't break, not even when Blacky quite lost his temper and hammered at it for all he was worth. Then he gave the thing up as a bad matter and flew up to his favorite roost in the top of a tall pine-tree, leaving the egg on the ground. But from where he sat on his favorite roost in the tall pine-tree he could see that provoking egg, a little spot of shining white. When a Jolly Little Sunbeam found it and rested on it, it was so very bright and shiny that Blacky couldn't keep his eyes off it.

Little by little he forgot that it was an egg. At least, he forgot that he wanted to eat it. He began to find pleasure in just looking at it. It might not satisfy his stomach, but it certainly was very satisfying to his eyes. He forgot to think of it as a thing to eat, but began to think of it wholly as a thing to look at and admire. He was glad he hadn't been able to break that shell.

Once more he spread his black wings and flew down to the egg. He cocked his head to one side and looked at it. He cocked his head to the other side and looked at it. He walked all around it, chuckling and saying to himself, "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty and all mine, mine, mine, mine! Pretty, pretty, and all mine!"

Than he craftily looked all about to make sure that no one was watching him. Having made quite sure, he rolled the egg over and turned it around and admired it to his heart's content. At last he picked it up and carried it to his treasure-house and covered it over very carefully. And there that china nest-egg, for that is what he had stolen, is still his chief treasure to this day, and Blacky still sometimes wonders what kind of a hen laid such a hard-shelled egg.

Blacky has had very many other adventures, but it would take another book to tell about all of them. That would be hardly fair to some of the other little people who also have had adventures and want them told to you. One of these is a beautiful little fellow who lives in the Green Forest, and so the next book will be Whitefoot the Wood Mouse.

THE END