Blacky awoke in the best of spirits. Late the afternoon before he had
saved Dusky the Black Duck and his flock from a hunter with a terrible
gun. He wasn't quite sure whether he was most happy in having saved
those Ducks by warning them just in time, or in having spoiled the plans
of that hunter. He hates a hunter with a terrible gun, does Blacky. For
that matter, so do all the little people of the Green Forest and the
Green Meadows.
So Blacky started out for his breakfast in high spirits. After
breakfast, he flew over to the Big River to see if Dusky the Black Duck
was feeding in the rushes along the shore. Dusky wasn't, and Blacky
guessed that he and his flock had been so frightened by that warning
that they had kept away from there the night before.
“But they'll come back after a night or so,” muttered Blacky, as he
alighted in the top of a tree, the same tree from which he had watched
the hunter the afternoon before. “They'll come back, and so will that
hunter. If he sees me around again, he'll try to shoot me. I've done all
I can do. Anyway, Dusky ought to have sense enough to be suspicious of
this place after that warning. Hello, who is that? I do believe it is
Farmer Brown's boy. I wish he would come over here. If he should find
out about that hunter, perhaps he would do something to drive him away.
I'll see if I can call him over here.”
Blacky began to call in the way he does when he has discovered something
and wants others to know about it. “Caw, caw, caaw, caaw, caw, caw,
caaw!” screamed Blacky, as if greatly excited.
Now Farmer Brown's boy, having no work to do that morning, had started
for a tramp over the Green Meadows, hoping to see some of his little
friends in feathers and fur. He heard the excited cawing of Blacky and
at once turned in that direction.
“That black rascal has found something over on the shore of the Big
River,” said Farmer Brown's boy to himself. “I'll go over there to
see what it is. There isn't much escapes the sharp eyes of that black
busybody. He has led me to a lot of interesting things, one time and
another. There he is on the top of that tree over by the Big River.”
As Farmer Brown's boy drew near, Blacky flew down and disappeared below
the bank. Fanner Brown's boy chuckled. “Whatever it is, it is right down
there,” he muttered.
He walked forward rapidly but quietly, and presently he reached the edge
of the bank. Up flew Blacky cawing wildly, and pretending to be scared
half to death. Again Farmer Brown's boy chuckled. “You're just making
believe,” he declared. “You're trying to make me believe that I have
surprised you, when all the time you knew I was coming and have been
waiting for me. Now, what have you found over here?”
He looked eagerly along the shore, and at once he saw a row of low
bushes close to the edge of the water. He knew what it was instantly.
“A Duck blind!” he exclaimed. “A hunter has built a blind over here from
which to shoot Ducks. I wonder if he has killed any yet. I hope not.” He
went down to the blind, for that is what a Duck hunter's hiding-place
is called, and looked about. A couple of grains of corn just inside
the blind caught his eyes, and his face darkened. “That fellow has been
baiting Ducks,” thought he. “He has been putting out corn to get them to
come here regularly. My, how I hate that sort of thing! It is bad enough
to hunt them fairly, but to feed them and then kill them--ugh! I wonder
if he has shot any yet.”
He looked all about keenly, and his face cleared. He knew that if that
hunter had killed any Ducks, there would be tell-tale feathers in the
blind, and there were none.