Jack Crow 73 



now and then, when the dog stopped gobbling to take 

 a breath, he snatched a chunk and scuttled off as fast as 

 his lame wing would let him. Old Jack's wrathful growls 

 were his only consolation, for the crow perched just out 

 of reach and ate his stolen bit or stowed it away in some 

 conspicuous corner. The dog's grievances were soon for- 

 gotten, and the crow went tagging him all around the 

 yard, hitching along as fast as he could and jabbering 

 in an excited, impatient way. 



The children, the dog, and the crow were boon 

 companions. In summer they went blackberrying to- 

 gether. When they started out the crow always rode on 

 some one's shoulder, but when they came back he was 

 in a much bigger hurry to get home than the rest and 

 flew on ahead. When they arrived they found him skir- 

 mishing for something to eat or up to some of his tricks. 



Jack Crow's wings were never clipped. He stayed 

 with us of his own free will. He never entirely severed 

 his relations with his own kind, for he used to go out 

 in the corn-field with the flocks of tramp crows that came 

 to forage. We expected to see them resent his company, 

 since it generally seems to be the case that wild crows 

 hate a crow that is tame and lives with man, and they 

 treat him as a traitor to the race. But if Jack got such 

 treatment we never knew it. 



We were always afraid when the men went out in the 

 field to shoot crows that they would kill our pet. So we 

 watched the proceeding with anxiety. Once or twice, when 

 they scared up the flocks of birds, old Jack was along, 

 and Jack Crow saved his own life by flying out of the flock 

 and lighting on the dog's back. All through the summer 



