"How would you like it if I went up and down Pleasant Valley telling everybody that you were a—"
But Mr. Crow didn't care to hear any more. He knew that the Muley Cow was going to say something about his stealing corn.
"It's getting late," he interrupted, though the sun hadn't been up an hour. "I must be poking along." And then he flapped himself away.
That was just like Mr. Crow. When ever he found himself getting the worst of an argument he wouldn't talk any longer.
"Poking along, indeed!" the Muley Cow snorted as she watched him sailing toward the woods. "He can't fool me. He said that just to be disagreeable. He was poking fun at me!"