"An' I'll dib oo a pet tennary, Do," lisped little Laura.
"An' I'll gib you a good lickin' ef you don't shet dat dar bawlin'," said Aunt Dinah. "Why, yer couldn't make more ob a rumpus over a pore Christian."
But entreaties or threats were of no avail. Jo thanked Master Harry for his offer of the bull-pup, and Miss Laura for hers of a canary, but he said he didn't want any more pets if 'Thus'lem died. Then he climbed the back steps to the room over the kitchen where he and Aunt Dinah slept. Taking out of an old box a checked shirt, he proceeded to tear off the tail some narrow strips. These he bound tightly about the bleeding body of the crow, and finding one leg hanging limp and useless, he cut a splinter from the box, and set the shattered limb. Then he bathed 'Thus'lem's head with water, all the while calling upon his favorite to open his eyes and look at him once more before he died.
'Thus'lem seemed to have made up his mind to look at Jo a good many more times before he died, for his best eye opened and began to blink in such a lively manner that Jo jumped up and clapped his hands with delight.
"Why, 'Thus'lem," he stammered—"why, why, yer ain't done gone, is yer? Yer's a-gwine to lib, mebbe?"
"Jes so, jes so," feebly croaked the crow.
Not that I mean to say 'Thus'lem could talk. No member of the crow family has ever been known to carry on a conversation; but as for those two words, everybody said they were plain enough when you knew what they were.
"'Clar to goodness," said Aunt Dinah, "ef dere's any kill in dat dar crow! He's been froze to deff, an' scalded to deff, an' crushed to deff, an' shot to deff, an' here he is agin, peart as a maggot. Reckon he's lived 's long 's de creation itseff, an' looked on wid dat dar crooked eye o' his'n when Noah built de ark. He's enuff to scar' de life out ob any one. Jes look at him, Mas'r Harry."
He certainly was a very queer specimen of the bird creation. His body seemed to be held together with strips of Jo's old shirt, he had only one leg to stand on, and every feather seemed to straggle in a different direction.
"He hasn't got off by de skin ob his teef for nuffin," said Aunt Dinah; "he's chock-full ob inikity, dat dar crow."