“Master Reynard, the fox, was sadly disappointed at thus losing his dinner, and ran along underneath them several rods, in the hope that the raven would find the load too much, and let poor Bob down again, to be welcomed by his foxship’s fine rows of sharp teeth.
“But there was no such good luck that day for the fox. The squirrel, weak, and famished, and unresisting, was an easy burthen for the raven. Away she flew, over mountain and valley, and rock and field, making herself quite happy, in the expectation of the fine treat the squirrel would afford her young ones. There is, however, many a slip betwixt cup and lip.
“An eagle, who had watched the whole affair, thought he would have a word in the matter. The King of Birds determined to seize both the captor and captive; so, sweeping along, he gave the raven a furious blow, but missed half his prize. The raven let poor Bob go, and down he went, down, down, down. Happily, the eagle left off hunting the squirrel, to pursue the raven.”
“What was Bob thinking of, when he was falling?” asked Frank.
“I declare! What a child!” cried Mary. “As if any body could think, when he was falling!”
“But they can, though, Miss Mary,” said Frank, “and I know it!”
Bob’s Escape.
“How?” asked his father.
“Why, when I was falling from the loft—”