When you see another's danger
Warn him though he be a stranger.
--Blacky the Crow.
Every day for a week a man came in a boat to scatter corn in the rushes
at a certain point along the bank of the Big River, and every day Blacky
the Crow watched him and shook his black head and talked to himself and
told himself that he didn't like it, and that he was sure that it was
for no good purpose. Sometimes Blacky watched from a distance, and
sometimes he flew right over the man. But never once did the man have a
gun with him.
Every morning, very early, Blacky flew over there, and every morning he
found Dusky the Black Duck and his flock in the rushes and wild rice at
that particular place, and he knew that they had been there all night,
He knew that they had come in there just at dusk the night before, to
feast on the yellow corn the man had scattered there in the afternoon.
“It is no business of mine what those Ducks do,” muttered Blacky to
himself, “but as surely as my tail feathers are black, something is
going to happen to some of them one of these days. That man may be
fooling them, but he isn't fooling me. Not a bit of it. He hasn't had
a gun with him once when I have seen him, but just the same he is a
hunter. I feel it in my bones. 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!”