"Ha! ha! ha!" Mr. Crow cried, holding[p. 39] his sides and rocking backwards and forwards upon the old stump.
"Jay! jay! jay!" Jasper and his friends bawled, hopping up and down and cutting capers in the air.
As for Timothy Turtle, he made no sound at all. And neither did he make the slightest motion. The current of Black Creek caught him and bore him away down the stream. But at last he managed to paddle ashore. And he pulled himself slowly out of the water, and lay upon the sand and groaned.
Mr. Crow and his cronies gathered quickly about him.
"What's the matter?" Mr. Crow inquired. "Don't you like flying?"
It was some time before Timothy could answer.
"I've had an awful fall," he moaned finally.[p. 40]
"Where are you hurt?" Mr. Crow asked him.
"Everywhere!" Timothy Turtle told him. "I thought you said that water was soft to fall into."
"Well, isn't it?"