Then Reddy took another—and closer—look at him. Reddy couldn't help feeling there was something queer about the fellow. Half hidden as he was among the reeds the stranger was not easy to see.
Suddenly Reddy Woodpecker turned upon Mr. Crow and called him a fraud.
"This person hasn't a red cap," Reddy declared. "I won't have him in my club. I know him now. He's hiding his head under his wing. That patch of scarlet isn't on his head. It's on his shoulder. He's one of that Red-winged Blackbird family that lives in the swamp. And his head is as black as your own, Mr. Crow."
By this time Mr. Crow was dancing up and down and cawing at the top of his lungs.
"He's a member of The Redcaps!" he cried with great glee. "You invited him. And he accepted the invitation."
"Very well!" said Reddy Woodpecker. "But if he belongs to my club he'll have to keep his head under his wing."
"Then I resign!" cried the Red-winged Blackbird.
"Oh, don't do that!" Mr. Crow begged him.
"It's too late," Reddy told the old gentleman. "Your friend is a member of The Redcaps no longer."
XVII