Of course as soon as it opened its mouth down fell the knife, and away the crow flew.
“You made him drop it!” cried Trouble.
“I guess he had to drop it to caw,” said Ted, which was more like the truth, for the stone he had thrown did not come anywhere near the crow. “I hope I find my knife,” Teddy went on.
He ran toward the place where he had seen it fall from the crow’s beak, and as the bird circled overhead, crying and cawing in answer to the other, which the boys did not see, Ted and his brother searched amid the leaves for the missing knife.
After poking about for some time they picked it up, and Ted looked at it carefully to see if it might be damaged. But it was none the worse from having been nearly carried off by the crow.
“What made him want it?” asked Trouble, as the whistle-making started again.
“Oh, I guess maybe he wanted to give it to his little boy,” Ted answered, with a laugh, as he carefully whittled away at the whistle.
“Has crows got little boys?” Trouble wanted to know.
“Yes, I guess so; and little girls, too,” explained Teddy.
“But how can a crow boy cut with a knife?” persisted William. “How can he?”