THE CROWS PLAN A SURPRISE FOR OLD ROUGH.
Old Rough glanced fiercely in the direction of the speaker’s voice, and
beheld, seated unconcernedly on a tree, the chimney-swallow, Swift.
“I intend to find her, sir,” answered old Rough, viciously, his nose
moving about rapidly in his excitement. “I can assure you it is not so
easy to escape me as you imagine.”
“How much will you bet that you find Bobtilla within a week?” asked the
swallow.
“I will find her within three days,” replied old Rough, savagely; “and
let me tell you that her friends who interest themselves in her welfare
had better look out!” and old Rough went toward the dwelling lately
inhabited by the little chipmunks. In vain the old water-rat peeped
into the hole, and glanced sharply around him,--not a trace of the
chipmunk family was to be found.
“You’ll have to leave your card; they’re evidently not at home,” said
the swallow, coolly, as the old water-rat looked about him wrathfully.
“I’ll thank you to mind your own business, sir,” responded old Rough.
“If I thought you were at the bottom of all this, I’d--” he stopped,
with a vicious snap of his teeth.
“You’d what?” asked the swallow, calmly.
“I’d take care that you never repeated the trick,” said old Rough.
“Now that I think of it, I believe you are the swallow that was flying
about pretending to catch insects, when my friends and I were talking
together. Eavesdropper!”
“Yes, I am the very one, just as you are the water-rat that was
squatting down behind the big stone, you know, to overhear what the
crows and Johnny the basso were talking about.”
“And you gave warning to Bobtilla, and advised her to move!” said old
Rough, ignoring entirely the allusion to his own eavesdropping.
“Just so,” replied the swallow, calmly; “I not only advised Bobtilla
and the squirrels to move, but I selected a spot for them where you’ll
never find them if you hunt till you’re blind.”
“I shall find them before three days have passed,” asserted the
water-rat. “I have influence sufficient to discover them if they are on
the face of the earth, and I can assure you that my revenge will be all
the sweeter for having to wait.”
“Yes, if time adds to the pleasure of revenge, yours will have a chance
to grow considerably.”
“And I shall not forget the little favor you have done me in trying to
frustrate my plans,” snarled the old rat.
“Don’t mention it; you are quite welcome,” responded the swallow, with
great good-humor, as he rose into the air and soared out of sight.
Old Rough remained quite still for awhile, thinking over the best
course to pursue to recover Bobtilla, and he concluded he could not do
it without some help. To whom should he apply? Old Blinkeye was the
first who came to his mind as the most likely to find them out; but he
was out of the question, for if the fierce owl discovered Bobtilla and
the squirrels, he would most surely keep them for himself, such tender
morsels as they would make.
Next the two young crows came into the water-rat’s mind; but how could
he trust such unreliable fellows? To be sure, it would take cleverer
young fellows than they to dupe the wary old water-rat, but still he
didn’t dare trust them.
How about old Caw? Old as he was, his one eye could see farther than
any other pair, and the old thief would do anything that paid well. The
longer the miser considered the matter, the more convinced he became
that old Caw was the one to do the business for him.
All the while the water-rat had been forming this plan, if little
Bobtilla or the squirrels had seen him, they might well have trembled
for their safety, for a most unpleasant spectacle he presented, as he
sat on his haunches, his small sharp eyes gleaming with malice, and his
long nose moving incessantly.
Having come to the conclusion that old Caw was the one to help him out
of his difficulty, the old water-rat lost no time in seeking him. The
old crow was at home; indeed he seldom ventured away from it, except in
search of food, and then he usually made solitary expeditions into the
woods, where he detected appetizing morsels that the younger crows had
not discovered. Favorite haunts he frequented, where he unearthed the
delicate tidbits he had secreted, and many a sumptuous repast he made
on some particularly dainty bit his young grandsons had buried for
their own especial food.
To-day, however, the old crow was at home, and sitting on his favorite
perch, his one eye closed, and his head sunk between his high
shoulders. He was apparently unaware of the water-rat’s approach, and
old Rough contemplated him for awhile in silence.
“The old thief is as wide awake as I am,” said old Rough to himself, as
he watched the slumbering crow. “He is looking at me out of one corner
of his sharp old eye, and pretends to be asleep.--Hallo, friend Caw!”
he called out, when he had grown tired of waiting.
The old crow languidly opened his one eye half way, and glanced about
in a direction opposite from where the water-rat was stationed; then he
drowsily closed it again, and continued his nap.
“Hallo, old Caw, I say!” called out the water-rat again, somewhat
louder.
“What say?” slowly demanded old Caw, again opening his eye, and
inclining one ear toward his visitor.
“Something new for the old fellow to be deaf,” muttered the old miser
to himself. “Hallo! I said,” he shouted, as the old crow showed
symptoms of relapsing into another nap. “Can’t you keep awake long
enough to hear what I have to say? I’ll make it for your interest.”
At these words, the old crow’s drowsiness and deafness disappeared
together, and he assumed an attentive attitude, while the old water-rat
began his story.
“I came to ask you to discover the hiding-places of a certain
field-mouse, one Bobtilla by name, and a pair of chipmunks who have
gone off with her. If you’ll find out where they are, I’ll pay you well
for it.”
“What’ll you give?” asked the old crow, shrewdly, with his head on one
side, and his half-closed eye on the rat.
“I’ll put you in the way of getting a fine sheep’s pluck,” replied old
Rough.
“Yes, I know farmer Smith has just killed a sheep,” answered old Caw,
quietly.
“But you don’t know where the best part of the pluck is, the tender
liver, that melts in your mouth,” added the water-rat.
The old crow in answer gave a short caw expressive of indifference,
and then began to show symptoms of a return to the drowsy condition in
which the old rat had found him.
“Will you trade, or not?” asked old Rough.
“That depends upon how much you’re willing to give. I can’t say I’m
hankering after the job,” answered old Caw.
“I’ve just told you what I’ll give,” said old Rough, impatiently,--“a
rich sheep’s liver, that when it’s been buried a couple of weeks will
fairly make your mouth water.”
“Not half enough,” replied Caw, calmly. “On the whole, I don’t think I
care to undertake the job.”
“What job?” called out a voice; “if it’s a paying one, I’m your crow,”
and the two young crows alighted on the tree beside their grandfather.
Having failed with the old crow, the water-rat found there was nothing
to be done but to avail himself of the assistance of the younger
crows; and after much haggling on both sides, the young crows decided
to undertake the job, provided the old miser would give them the
sheep’s liver and a fine piece of pork-rind which they knew him to
possess. Having thus concluded the bargain, the old water-rat departed,
well-satisfied with his morning’s work, and confident that he would
shortly have Bobtilla and the chipmunks in his power.
When he was well out of sight and hearing, old Caw addressed his
grandsons thus,--
“What induced you to undertake this thing?”
“Why, the sheep’s liver and pork-rind, of course,” they replied.
“When do you expect to get possession of them?” asked old Caw.
“When we’ve found out where the field-mouse and squirrels are, of
course,” replied his elder grandson.
“There’s no _of course_ about it,” quietly answered old Caw. “Don’t you
know the miser never pays his debts?”
The young crows looked rather sheepish at this, but assured their
grandfather that they would find a way to be even with the old miser if
he didn’t pay up.
“I advise you to be cautious how you play any tricks on the old
fellow,” said old Caw, “for he’s sharper than you are. Don’t you
suppose _I_’d have undertaken the job if I had thought it would pay?”
“What would you advise us to do about it?” asked the younger grandson.
“Well, since it’s in the family, I don’t mind giving you some advice,”
replied the old crow. “Pretend you have found the places he wants, and
then when he has gone there, go and help yourselves to the sheep’s
liver and pork-rind. That’s the surest way I know of.”
Having imparted this valuable information, old Caw was soon asleep
in earnest, and his two grandsons sat whispering over their plans.
Whatever conclusion they arrived at was evidently very satisfactory,
for they chuckled gleefully over it.
All this time, the objects of this wicked plotting were safe in their
new homes, enjoying the pure air of the forest, and sporting among
the trees and over the soft turf, never dreaming but that this state
of security would last forever. Occasionally a bird passed over the
tree at whose foot they were hidden, or stopped to rest on one of its
branches, but no one offered to molest them.
One day, Bobtilla was out in search of food for her family, and the
squirrels were absent on the same errand. Their young families were
left at home by themselves, with instructions not to leave their homes.
The day was fine, and all was so quiet in the woods that it was hard
for these active young creatures to remain cramped in their small
quarters. One of Bobtilla’s children ventured timidly to the door, and
peeped cautiously out. At the same moment he appeared at the opening,
his bright little eyes fell on one of the squirrel’s children, who was
likewise tempted to obtain a breath of fresh air.
After a short conversation, they were joined by their brothers and
sisters. A consultation ensued, in which they agreed that it was
positively injurious to the health of all to remain longer in such
close quarters, and that a little exercise in the pure air would be to
their advantage, and the very thing their parents would desire for them
under the circumstances.
Having arrived at this wise conclusion, the little field-mice and their
squirrel neighbors ventured out of their dark homes, and were soon
frisking about in the liveliest manner,--the squirrels racing over the
trees and stumps, and the little mice running about below. So intent
were they on their sport, that they did not perceive two young crows,
who perched on the very tree at whose roots they lived.
“Hallo!” called out the crows, and at the sudden sound they all
scampered into their holes.
“Perhaps we can find out something from them,” said the crows to each
other; and they remained silently on the tree.
Before long one of the young squirrels, more venturesome than the rest,
became emboldened to peep out of his house, and beheld the two young
crows quietly seated on the tree.
“What’s the trouble, sonny?” asked one of the crows; “we will not hurt
you. Come out, and finish your game.”
A whispered conversation followed inside the squirrel house, and at
last they all ventured out again, and sat in a row on their little
haunches, looking up curiously at their black visitors.
“We are alone, and our mother told us to stay in the house,” remarked
the squirrel who had first ventured out.
“You mind well,” said the elder crow; “shows you’ve been well brought
up.”
“You see we have not been out since we moved,” continued the squirrel,
who became communicative as soon as he found the newcomers were kindly
disposed; “and we were tired of staying in that dark hole. It’s awfully
hard to be so cramped up, you know.”
“I should think so,” replied the crow. “Why don’t your friends come out
again?” Then he added in a low tone to his brother, “He says they have
moved,--you may be sure it’s the ones we’re looking for.”
“They are very timid,” replied the squirrel; “and Bobtilla told them if
they went out, old Rough would be sure to catch them.”
“So they are Bobtilla’s children, are they?”
“Yes,” replied the squirrel.
“Well, go on with your play,” said the crows, and away they flew,
having gained all the information they wanted, without the slightest
effort on their part.
“Now for old Rough. We’ll find him and direct him to the right spot.
Won’t he be surprised, though?” said the younger crow; and the thought
of what they were about to do afforded them such delight that their
loud laughter caused them to fly in a very disorderly manner, bumping
against each other, and conducting themselves very riotously.
[Illustration: “The numerous barns and sheds, well stocked with horses
and cattle, gave evidence of the prosperity of the owner.”]