The Tale of Old Mr. Crow Part 4

Just then a low rumble caught his ear.

"That's thunder!" he cried. "I do hope it will rain!"

In a short time the sky grew dark. And pretty soon great drops came pattering down upon the leaves over Jasper's head.

"Hurrah!" he shouted. And then he flew straight up to the very top of a tall tree, where he perched himself on a limb and spread Mr. Crow's umbrella.

Though it was soon raining hard, the rain did not fall any too heavily to please Jasper Jay. He enjoyed the pleasant-sounding patter over his head.

And he liked to watch the trickle of the water as it ran off the umbrella and fell upon the leaves beneath him.

Now, while Jasper Jay was having a good time, there was one person who was not enjoying the shower at all--and that was old Mr. Crow. You remember that he had gone to a crows' meeting. And as soon as it began to sprinkle the meeting broke up. Old Mr. Crow was the first one to leave; and he was in a great hurry. He wished he had not left his umbrella with Jasper Jay, for he did not want anybody but himself to use it--especially for the first time. As you know, ever since Mr. Crow had owned his umbrella it had not rained once.

That was why the old gentleman flew away without even stopping to bid his friends good-by. He flew as fast as he could, through the pelting rain.

And he had just come in sight of the woods where Jasper had promised to wait for him when the rain suddenly stopped.

As Mr. Crow dropped downward he saw something in a tree-top that made him very angry. It was his umbrella, wide open. And beneath it--though Mr.

Crow could not see him--was Jasper Jay.

He was trembling with rage--was Mr. Crow--as he alighted on a limb near his cousin.

"Here, you!" the old gentleman cried. "Put down my umbrella! It's not raining. How dare you sit there with my umbrella spread over your head?"

Jasper Jay closed the umbrella quickly and handed it to Mr. Crow with a smile.

"That's a good umbrella," he remarked. "As you see, I'm not even damp.

But you--ha! ha!--_you_ seem to have been caught out in a heavy shower."

Mr. Crow was dripping. His tail feathers looked quite bedraggled. And he was shaking the drops off his wings.

"It will never happen again," Mr. Crow said hoa.r.s.ely. "Never again will I go anywhere, rain or shine, without my umbrella. At my age it's very dangerous to get so wet."

"I'd advise you to run through the woods, and then run back again, until you get warm," Jasper Jay suggested. "And since you're my cousin, if you want me to do it I'll help you--and hold your umbrella for you until you return."

But Mr. Crow shook his head.

"I've had enough of your advice," he said sourly. "It might rain again; and then I'd be worse off than ever."

Jasper Jay pretended to be surprised. And he, too, began to tremble and shake. But it was only because he was laughing silently at his cousin.

X

A QUEER TOADSTOOL

Mr. Crow did exactly as he said he would. After the time he was caught out in the shower and got wet he never went even the shortest distance away from home without his umbrella. And he wouldn't even let anybody take his umbrella, in order to look at it.

"It might rain suddenly," Mr. Crow explained. "I might be soaked before I knew it--and you know that's very dangerous for one of my age."

It was not many days before there was another thunder-shower. And this time Mr. Crow was ready for it. As soon as he felt the first drops he spread his umbrella and raised it above his head. At last he was very, very happy. For the first time in his life he was going to see what it was like to stay out in the rain without getting wet.

Now, it hadn't rained long before Jasper Jay came hurrying up to Mr.

Crow, where he sat on Farmer Green's fence, and crawled under the umbrella close beside the old gentleman.

"You don't mind, I hope?" said Jasper Jay.

"Well--n-no!" said Mr. Crow. "It's a big umbrella, fortunately. But I hope no one else comes along."

The words were hardly out of his bill when Mr. Crow noticed a slim, gray fellow, with a bushy tail, bounding toward them on top of the fence.

It was Frisky Squirrel. And he crept close to Mr. Crow, under the umbrella, saying:

"You don't mind, I hope?"

"N-no!" replied Mr. Crow. With Frisky on one side of him and Jasper Jay on the other Mr. Crow thought that maybe he could keep drier because they were there. But he hoped no one else would pa.s.s that way.

Well, some one did. Before Mr. Crow knew what had happened, a voice said--right over his shoulder:

"You don't mind, I hope?"

It was Fatty c.o.o.n! And Mr. Crow certainly did mind--though he didn't dare say so. In the first place, Mr. Crow was afraid of Fatty c.o.o.n. And in the second place, Fatty was so big that he crowded Mr. Crow almost off the fence.

Old Mr. Crow found it very hard to hold the umbrella straight and cling to the fence-rail at the same time. And something seemed to have made the umbrella very heavy. In spite of all he could do, it would tilt. And Mr.

Crow crouched under the edge of it, right where the rain poured off. The water dripped inside his collar and ran down his back until he was soaked through and through.

Pretty soon Mr. Crow began to sneeze. At first he sneezed quite softly.

But every time it happened he sneezed harder than the time before. And at last he sneezed so violently that he lost his hold on the fence and went tumbling down to the ground, with the umbrella, Jasper Jay, Fatty c.o.o.n and Frisky Squirrel on top of him.

As they fell, a huge, long-legged fellow named Christopher Crane alighted on the fence, on the very spot where they had been sitting, and laughed loudly at them.

"What's the joke?" Mr. Crow asked in an angry voice, as he picked himself up. "I don't see anything to laugh at."

"Joke?" said Christopher Crane. "The joke's on me. I thought that thing you have in your hand was a new kind of toadstool, growing on the fence.

And here I've been sitting on it all this time and never knew you chaps were under it!"

At that, everybody except Mr. Crow began to laugh, too. But Mr. Crow coughed; and his voice was hoa.r.s.er than, ever as he said to Christopher Crane:

"I'm wet as I can be. And I've caught a terrible cold. You're a water-bird; and you don't mind a wetting. But for one of my age it's very dangerous."

Then he started homeward. Though it was still raining, he tucked his umbrella under his wing, for he was afraid those rude fellows would crowd under it again.

And before he had reached his house Mr. Crow had made up his mind about something.

XI