"Maybe not for black ones, but white crows are perfectly safe there, the same as white rabbits. I never saw one hurt there."
"Don't men shoot them?"
"No. People don't shoot birds and animals in the city. They're not allowed to carry guns at all. You're really safer than out here in the country."
"But there's nothing to eat in the city—not for crows. Is there?"
"All the white crows I knew were well fed. And the sparrows get plenty. People feed them sometimes in the park. Why, there are squirrels that have all the nuts they can eat, and they don't have to hunt for them."
"White squirrels?" interrupted Mr. Crow, eagerly.
"Did you ever see a white squirrel, Mr. Crow?" asked Bumper, instead of answering this question.
"No, I never did."
"Then," sighing, "I'm afraid there are none."
Mr. Crow wasn't so much interested in white squirrels as in white crows, and he dismissed the matter from his mind. After a pause, he added: "I believe I'll take a trip to the city, if there's no danger. I'd like to visit some of the white crows. It may be if I stay with them in the city, I'll turn white, too."