|PETER RABBIT had just seen Flathorns the Moose for the first time, and
Peter was having hard work to believe that there wasn't something the
matter with his eyes. Indeed they looked as if something was the matter
with them, for they seemed about to pop right out of his head. If any
one had _told_ Peter that any one as big as Flathorns lived in the Great
Woods, he wouldn't have believed it, but now that he had _seen_ that it
was so, he just had to believe. So Peter sat with his eyes popping out
and his mouth gaping wide open in the most foolish way as he stared in
the direction in which Flathorns had gone.
“Big, isn't he?”
Peter looked up to see Blacky the Crow in the top of a birch-tree just
at one side, and Blacky, too, was looking after Flathorns. Then Blacky
looked down at Peter and began to laugh. “Don't try to swallow him,
Peter!” said he.
[Illustration: 0099]
Peter closed his mouth with a snap.
“My, but he _is_ big!” he exclaimed. “I never felt so small in all my
life as when I first caught sight of him. What queer horns he has!
I suppose they are horns, for he carries them on his head just as
Lightfoot the Deer does his. They are so big I should think they would
make his head ache.”
“Perhaps they do, and that is why he drops them every spring and grows a
new pair during the summer,” replied Blacky.
“Drops them! Drops those great horns and grows new ones in a single
summer! Do you mean to tell me that hard things like those horns grow?
And what do you mean by saying that he drops them every spring? Why, I
saw him banging them against a tree just now, and I guess if they ever
were coming off they would have come off then. You can't fool me with
any such story as that, Blacky!”
“Have it your own way, Peter,” replied Blacky. “Some people never can
believe a thing until they see it with their own eyes. All I've got to
say is just keep an eye on Flathorns in the spring and then remember
what I've told you.” Before Peter could reply Blacky had spread his
wings, and with a harsh “Caw, caw, caw,” had flown away.