Poor Photographer Crane! He didn’t see Old Man Weasel only a few feet behind. No, indeed. If he had he might have dropped his big camera and maybe hurt the little bird which all good photographers ask us to watch until he squeezes the little rubber bulb.
But, no, sir! the good-hearted Photographer Crane never suspected for a moment that he was in danger. My, but it was mighty lucky that just then Professor Crow chanced to look down from his Tall Pine Tree House. Dear me! I can’t bear to think what would have happened pretty soon, and maybe mighty quick, to Photographer Crane if the good professor bird had looked the other way!
“Bless my gold stripes and twenty-five silver buttons!” exclaimed the brave Policeman Dog on hearing the radio call. Jumping up from his mahogany desk, in less time than I can take to tell it, he picked up his big hickory club and hurried to the Tall Pine Tree.
“Ha, ha!” chuckled the wicked Weasel to himself as he crept after poor Photographer Crane, “in just two minutes or three I’ll bite in two his long skinny left leg, ha, ha!”
“I’ll soon be at the Old Bramble Patch,” thought the kind camera picture bird, strutting along, first on one leg and then on the other. “I’ll make a beautiful picture of the pretty yellow canary swinging in her gold cage on the front porch, the shiny brass knob on the front door, Lady Love standing on the kitchen porch and Little Jack Rabbit feeding the pigeons.”
“Gracious me! I wish the Policeman Dog would hurry,” sighed the anxious but learned old crow bird, peering down from his Tall Pine Tree House. He could just see Old Man Weasel’s tail as he crept, oh, so softly after Mr. Crane.
“I won’t do a thing to that old Weasel,” laughed the Policeman Dog, as he ran swiftly through the forest.
“My, this camera is heavy,” sighed Photographer Crane, slipping it off his back. “I guess I’ll rest a minute or three,” and down he sat on an old log. He didn’t see Old Man Weasel lean around a tree. Oh, my, no!
But don’t worry, little reader, when “Pop goes the weasel!” as they used to sing in the country when I was a boy.
Yes, “Pop” went Old Man Weasel, and the next minute poor Photographer Crane found himself underneath that wicked furry animal.