The Tale of Old Mr. Crow Part 1

The Tale of Old Mr. Crow.

by Arthur Scott Bailey.

I

THE OUTLAW

A good many of the forest-people claimed that old Mr. Crow was an outlaw. They said he was always roving about, robbing Farmer Green of his corn and his chickens, and digging up the potatoes when they shot their sprouts above the surface of the potato-patch. And everybody was aware that the old gentleman stole eggs from the nests of his smaller neighbors. It was even whispered that Mr. Crow had been known to devour baby robins.

But perhaps some of the things said of him were not true. Though if he really was an outlaw he seemed to enjoy being one. He usually laughed whenever Johnnie Green or his father tried to catch him, or when they attempted to frighten him. And on the whole he was quite the boldest, noisiest, and most impertinent of all the creatures that lived in Pleasant Valley.

His house stood in a tall elm, not too far from the cornfield. And those that dwelt near him never could complain that the neighborhood was quiet.... It was never quiet where old Mr. Crow was.

Many of the smaller birds feared him. But they couldn't help laughing at him sometimes--he was so droll, with his solemn face, his sedate walk, and his comical gestures. As for his voice, it was loud and harsh. And those that heard too much of it often wished that he would use it less.

Mr. Crow's best friends sometimes remarked that people did not understand him. They said that he helped Farmer Green more than he injured him, for he did a great deal in the way of eating beetles, cutworms and gra.s.shoppers, as well as many other insects that tried to destroy Farmer Green's crops. So you see he had his good points, as well as his bad ones.

For a number of years Mr. Crow had spent each summer in Pleasant Valley, under the shadow of Blue Mountain. He usually arrived from the South in March and left in October. And though many of his friends stayed in the North and braved the winter's cold and storms, old Mr. Crow was too fond of a good meal to risk going hungry after the snow lay deep upon the ground. At that season, such of his neighbors as remained behind often dined upon dried berries, which they found clinging to the trees and bushes. But so long as Mr. Crow could go where it was warmer, and find sea food along the sh.o.r.e, he would not listen to his friends' pleas that he spend the winter with them.

"Until I can no longer travel 'as the crow flies,' I shall not spend a winter here," he would say to them with a solemn wink. That was one of his favorite jokes. He had heard that when anybody asked Farmer Green how far it was to the village he always answered, "It's nine miles as the crow flies"--meaning that it was nine miles in a straight line.

Old Mr. Crow thought that the saying was very funny. But then, he usually laughed at Farmer Green, no matter what he said or did.

You can see that Mr. Crow was no respecter of persons.

II

SOMETHING LOST

It may seem a strange thing for old Mr. Crow to have had no other name--such as John, or James, or Josephus. But that was the way he preferred it to be. Indeed, his parents had given him another name, years before. But Mr. Crow did not like it. And after he grew up he dropped the name. To tell the truth, the reason for his coming to Pleasant Valley, in the beginning, was because no one knew him there.

And though his new friends thought it odd that he should be called simply "Mr. Crow," he was satisfied.

Of course, that was when he was younger. As the years pa.s.sed he became known as "old Mr. Crow." But no one called him that except behind his back. And since he knew nothing of that, it never annoyed him in the least.

Now, Mr. Crow had spent a good many pleasant seasons in Pleasant Valley.

And n.o.body had ever found out much about him. But at last there came a day when he was very much upset. He was roaming through the woods on a sunny afternoon when someone called to him.

He stopped. And presently a person in a bright blue coat came hurrying up. It was a noisy fellow known as Jasper Jay, who was new in the neighborhood.

"I thought I recognized you," he shouted to Mr. Crow. "As soon as I saw you fly past I said to myself, 'That looks like Cousin--'"

Mr. Crow stopped him just in time. It was true that the two were cousins.

One look at their big feet and their big bills would have told you that.

Now, Mr. Crow sometimes saw Jasper on the trips he made each fall and spring. And Jasper knew Mr. Crow's name. He had almost said it, too, at the top of his boisterous voice.

"What's the matter?" Jasper Jay inquired, for Mr. Crow was looking all around. "Have you lost anything?"

"Yes!" said Mr. Crow. "I've lost my name. And I don't want to find it again, either."

What he was really doing was this: He was peering about to see whether anybody might be listening.

Jasper Jay's mouth fell open--he was so astonished.

"Why, what do you mean, Cousin--"

Mr. Crow stopped him again.

"Don't call me that!" he said severely. "I'm known here as 'Mr. Crow.'

And I'll thank you to call me by that name and no other."

That astonished Jasper Jay all the more, because he had never known Mr.

Crow to thank anybody for anything.

"Well, well!" he murmured faintly. And then it was Mr. Crow's turn to be surprised, for he had never before heard his cousin Jasper speak in anything but the loudest scream.

Then Mr. Crow explained that he had never liked the name his parents had given him and that he wanted n.o.body in Pleasant Valley to learn what it was.

"You must promise me," said Mr. Crow--and there was a dangerous glitter in his eye--"you must promise me that you'll never speak my name again."

"Why, certainly!" Jasper Jay replied. "I'm glad to oblige you, I'm sure.

And I promise that I'll never, never, never again mention your name aloud, Cousin Jim."

There! The secret is out! Jasper Jay said Mr. Crow's name without once thinking what he was about. And Mr. Crow was so angry that he gave his cousin a sound beating, on the spot.

"I'll teach you," he said, "to do as you're told!" And he did. For after that Jasper Jay always remembered that to him, as to everybody else, his big black cousin must be known only as "Mr. Crow."

You see, "Jim Crow" was a name that Mr. Crow could not abide. The mere sound of it made him wince. And he was not a person of tender feelings, either.

III

THE GIANT SCARECROW

Farmer Green always claimed that Mr. Crow was a ruffian and a robber.

"That old chap has been coming here every summer for years," he said to his son Johnnie one day. "I always know him when I see him, because he's the biggest of all the crows that steal my corn."

That was Farmer Green's way of looking at a certain matter. But old Mr.

Crow regarded it otherwise. He knew well enough what Farmer Green thought of his trick of digging up the newly planted corn. And his own idea and Farmer Green's did not agree at all.