Fred was highly amused at the comical way the old raven watched the preparations being made, looking to his capture. He would cock his head on one side, as he looked down, and occasionally utter some droll word that seemed to fit the occasion exactly.
Having had considerable experience in chasing the mutinous bird all over the big room, Miss Muster seemed to know just how to manage things in order to get results with as little waste of time as possible.
"Fred, you take the ladder, and place it under this picture," she went on to say; "he always comes back there after each little flight. Then, with the broom I will shoo him off that curtain pole. He does get so excited, and goes on at such a terrible rate. Why, I sometimes seem to suspect that some of those strange words he uses may be what that Portuguese sailor, from whom I purchased him while over in England, taught him."
And indeed, once she started the bird flying wildly about, Black Joe did shriek out all manner of phrases, some of which Fred could understand, while others he was able to make nothing out of.
Fred knew the part he was expected to take in capturing the rebellious raven. He crouched there on the step-ladder, waiting for his chance. Trust a lively, wide-awake boy for being able to outwit any raven that ever lived. Black Joe may have believed himself smart, but he could not match wits with an up-to-date lad.
Fluttering his feathers indignantly, and still giving vent to a volume of angry cries, the raven presently, just as his mistress had said would be the case, settled on the top of the big picture frame.
Instantly a hand shot upward, and there was a squawk that seemed to be choked off, as Fred's fingers closed around the body and neck of wily Black Joe.
"Oh! please don't hurt him any, Fred!" cried the lady, dropping the broom, and hurrying over to take the bird from Fred's hands.
Indeed, the boy was not sorry to get rid of the savage creature, which was trying its best to give him vicious pecks, and struggling with wings and claws to break away.
Once in the possession of Miss Muster, however, it seemed to become very meek. She stroked it, murmuring endearing words, and proceeded to fasten a nickeled chain about one of it's legs, so that it could not fly away from the perch over in the corner by one of the windows, that were covered with wire mosquito netting.