“Come in!” roared Lion, “Come in at once, whatever you are and wherever you are!”
“Let me skip up the side of the pole and see just what it can be,” cried Monkey.
But just at that moment there came a muffled voice from the roof—a voice that was something between a caw and a croak.
“Menagerie tent, Spangleland?” it called down.
“Yes, Mr. Voice, you are in Spangleland and this is the menagerie tent,” answered Lion. “And now if you will be so good as to come out of hiding—”
But even while Lion was speaking a movement was seen and with it appeared two very black feet. These were followed by the under side of an even blacker body; with a long, pointed beak coming after. And thus, bit by bit, there gradually emerged the whole of a crow of quite remarkable size.
Now those who gazed upward at this strange visitor were immediately struck by three most unusual things. In the first place their caller’s head was almost wholly concealed by a messenger’s cap that was much too large for him. Secondly, he walked down the side of the pole when to have flown would have been a far simpler way. And, thirdly, instead of showing some interest in his surroundings as he entered, he preferred to bury his nose in the crook of what must have been a most entertaining book. Indeed he did not once look up until he had set his feet on the ground. And then it was to find himself surrounded by all the animals.
“Lion, Lion—Mister Lion,” he inquired rather briskly as he tucked his book under one wing and scanned the many faces.
“At your service,” responded Lion as he stepped forward.
“Yes, sir, yes, sir—Message for you, sir,” and removing his cap with something of a flourish, the crow took a bit of folded paper from out the crown of it.