“Corn!” exclaimed Blacky, as if very much astonished. “How does corn happen to be way over here in the water?”
Dusky shook his head. “Don't ask me, for I can't tell you,” said he. “I haven't the least idea. All I know is that every evening when we arrive, we find it here. How it gets here, I don't know, and furthermore I don't care. It is enough for me that it is here.”
“I've seen a man over here every afternoon,” said Blacky. “I thought he might be a hunter.”
“Did he have a terrible gun?” asked Dusky suspiciously.
“No-o,” replied Blacky.
“Then he isn't a hunter,” declared Dusky, looking much relieved.
“But perhaps one of these days he will have one and will wait for you to come in for your dinner,” suggested Blacky. “He could hide behind these bushes, you know.”
“Nonsense,” retorted Dusky, tossing his head. “There hasn't been a sign of danger here since we have been here. I know you, Blacky; you are jealous because we find plenty to eat here, and you find nothing. You are trying to scare us. But I'll tell you right now, you can't scare us away from such splendid eating as we have had here. So there!”