Mrs. Quack nodded proudly. “They are,” said she.
“You don't say so!” exclaimed Blacky, as if he were very much surprised, when all the time he wasn't surprised at all. “They are a credit to their parents. Yes, indeed, they are a credit to their parents. Never have I seen finer young Ducks in all my life. How glad the hunters with terrible guns will be to see them.”
Mrs. Quack shivered at that, and Blacky saw it. He chuckled softly. You know he dearly loves to make others uncomfortable. “I saw three hunters over on the edge of the Big River early this very morning,” said he.
Mrs. Quack looked more anxious than ever. Blacky's sharp eyes noted this.
“That is why I came over here,” he added kindly. “I wanted to give you warning.”
“But you didn't know the Quacks were here!” spoke up Peter.
“True enough, Peter. True enough,” replied Blacky, his eyes twinkling. “But I thought they might be. I had heard a rumor that those who go south are traveling earlier than usual this fall, so I knew I might find Mr. and Mrs. Quack over here any time now. Is it true, Mrs. Quack, that we are going to have a long, hard, cold winter?”
“That is what they say up in the Far North,” replied Mrs. Quack. “And it is true that Jack Frost had started down earlier than usual. That is how it happens we are here now. But about those hunters over by the Big River, do you suppose they will come over here?” There was an anxious note in Mrs. Quack's voice.
“No,” replied Blacky promptly. “Farmer Brown's boy won't let them. I know. I've been watching him and he has been watching those hunters. As long as you stay here, you will be safe. What a great world this would be if all those two-legged creatures were like Farmer Brown's boy.”
“Wouldn't it!” cried Peter. Then he added, “I wish they were.”