OLD Mr. Crow didn't say a single word when Master Meadow Mouse met him
face to face in the meadow. But a wicked glitter in Mr. Crow's eyes
warned Master Meadow Mouse that there was trouble ahead for him.
If the hole leading to his home hadn't been close at hand there's no
telling what would have happened to him. Anyhow, just as Mr. Crow lunged
at him, with a wild flapping of his broad wings, Master Meadow Mouse
slipped to one side and whisked through his doorway.
Old Mr. Crow coughed hoarsely.
"What's your hurry?" he cried. "I've been waiting around here for you
for a long while. Can't you spend a few moments of your valuable time
with me!"
Now, it was true that the old gentleman had been lingering in the
neighborhood. The corn wasn't quite ripe enough to suit him. So he had
decided to go a-mousing that morning.
His way of hunting, however, was not like that of other birds. Mr. Crow
chose to do his hunting afoot. He was too wise to waste any effort
looking for mice when the grass was high. But after haying he had often
gone a-mousing in years past. And he had found the sport to be quite
worth while. Stalking about the close cropped meadow he had surprised
many distant cousins of Master Meadow Mouse who never returned home to
tell the story of their meetings with the black scamp. Maybe Mr. Crow
was getting slow in his old age. He had never come so near to catching a
Meadow Mouse before, only to be disappointed. It was no wonder that he
felt peevish.
At first Master Meadow Mouse did not answer Mr. Crow when the old
gentleman called down the tunnel that led to the nest beneath the sod.
But soon Master Meadow Mouse remembered that Mr. Crow could get no more
than his bill inside the hole. And then Master Meadow Mouse found his
voice again.
"I don't want to go above ground," he said. "Can't you talk to me, where
I am?"
"It's not easy to do that," Mr. Crow grumbled. "I have to speak too
loud; and my voice is hoarse to-day."
"Stick your bill into my tunnel as far as it will go," Master Meadow
Mouse suggested. "Then you won't have to shout. I could hear a whisper
if you'd do as I say."
Old Mr. Crow thrust his bill down the hole.
"I don't like this," he croaked. "I can't see you."
"That's because you're shutting out all the light," Master Meadow Mouse
explained.
"I doubt it," said Mr. Crow angrily. "I believe you've drawn a curtain
across the other end of this tunnel. And I can't talk to anybody through
a curtain. I _refuse_ to injure my voice trying to talk with anybody
that won't give me a more friendly welcome when I call on him."
"Talk away!" Master Meadow Mouse urged his caller. "There's nothing
between us to keep me from hearing you. Nothing but a foot of air!"
"Ah!" Mr. Crow cried. "I _knew_ you had something in that tunnel. Remove
the air at once, sir, or I'll go away and leave you."
"If his bill wasn't so hard--if it was as soft as the Kitten's nose--I'd
bite it," Master Meadow Mouse thought.
And while he was thinking, all at once a shaft of light trickled inside
his house. Old Mr. Crow had gone grumbling on his way.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
8