“Here, come back!” he called to Trouble.
Trouble was headed for the lake, and he had been told he must not go there alone.
“Come back here, you little tyke!” cried Ted. “First you know you’ll fall in and I’ll have to fish you out.”
“Aw right, I come back,” agreed Trouble, stopping short. He feared if he did not mind he would get no whistle. “I just go to see maybe if fish in lake,” he said.
“You can’t tell by looking at a lake if it has fish in it or not,” said Teddy. “Now you stay by me if you want that whistle.”
As the boys started back toward the log on which they had been sitting, they saw a strange sight.
“Look! Look!” cried Trouble, pointing with a chubby finger toward the log. “Look at black bird takin’ my whistle!”
“No, he isn’t taking your whistle, I have that here!” said Teddy. “But it’s a crow and he’s after something. Oh, he’s got my knife!” he cried a moment later, as the big, black bird rose from the log, with something glittering held fast in his bill.
CHAPTER XI
TROUBLE IN THE STORE
“Caw! Caw! Caw!” came a hoarse cry, as the black bird fluttered up off the log, carrying away Ted’s bright and glittering knife, for crows like to take bright things, you know.