The crow croaked hoarsely. On Percy's plate lay a single morsel of steak, the choicest of his helping, reserved till the last. Seeing the bird's beady black eyes fasten upon it he made a quick movement to impale it with his fork. But Oso was quicker still. Down darted his sharp beak and snatched the titbit from under the very points of the tines. A single gulp and the meat was gone.
A roar of laughter went round the table. Starting up furiously, Percy aimed a blow at the crow. But the bird eluded him and scaled out of the door with a triumphant screech. Budge proffered mock consolation.
"Percy," said he, "that was the best piece in the whole steak. I saw you saving it until the last. Too bad, old man! Now you'll have to eat crow to get it."
"I'll wring that thief's neck if I can catch him," vowed the angry Whittington.
"Guess we can trust Oso not to leave his neck lying round where you can get hold of it," observed Lane. "Come on! Let's you and I wash the dishes!"
"Dishes nothing!" snarled Percy.
Stalking out, he gathered a handful of convenient pebbles and lay in wait for the culprit. But the crow had disappeared.
"I'll get even with him later," muttered Whittington.
He remained sulkily outside, taking no part in clearing away the supper-table. At half past seven the others joined him.