“Caw! Caw! Caw!” again sounded the cry.
Then Ted and Trouble noticed that it was not the crow that had the knife that was doing the cawing. It was some other crow farther off in the woods. For if the crow that had flown down and picked up Ted’s knife from the log had opened its mouth to caw, it would have had to drop the knife. A crow must open its beak to call, just as you have to open your mouth to sing, or as a dog opens its mouth to bark.
“Drop my knife! Drop my knife, you funny black crow!” cried Ted.
“Frow suffin’ at him! Frow suffin’!” cried Trouble, so eager and excited that he forgot to talk straight. “Frow suffin’!”
“I’ll throw something all right!” shouted Ted.
“Don’t frow my whistle,” begged Trouble.
Ted had been about to do this, forgetting that the stick he held in his hand was the one on one end of which he had started the whistle for his small brother.
“I’ll throw a stone!” cried the Curlytop boy.
Off in the woods sounded the caw of that other crow. And, just as Ted threw a stone at the black bird that had picked up his knife, though Ted did not hit the crow, the feathered thief with the knife in his beak opened his mouth and sent out an answering:
“Caw! Caw! Caw!”