THE CROW. 13 
stead of flying overhead when Bruno looked back, 
Jim would steal the bone the puppy had been 
gnawing. 
The crow was happy as long as any one would 
play with him, and never tired of flying low over 
the ground with a string dangling from his bill for 
the children to run after. Another favorite play 
was to hold on to a string or small stick with his 
bill while some one lifted him up by it, as a baby 
is tossed by its arms. He would even hold on and 
let you “ swing him around your head.” He was 
never daunted, and when the toddling two-year. 
old would get too rough in her play and strike at 
him with her stick, he would either catch the hem 
of her pinafore and hold on till she ran away, or 
would try scaring her, rushing at her — his big 
black wings spread out and his bill wide open. 
One day his pluck was thoroughly tested. 
Hearing loud caws of distress coming from the 
lawn, the gardener rushed across and found Jim 
lying on his back, his claw tightly gripping the 
end of one of the wings of a large hawk, that, 
surprised and terrified by this turn of the tables 
was struggling frantically to get away. Jim held 
him as tight as a vise, and only loosened his grasp 
to give his enemy into the gardener’s hands. After 
letting go he submitted to the victor’s reward, let- 
ting his wounds be examined and his bravery ex- 
tolled while he was carried about — wearing a 
most consciously heroic air, it must be confessed 
— for due celebration of the victory. 
