never known Mr.
Crow to thank anybody for anything.

"Well, well!" he murmured faintly. And then it was Mr. Crow's turn to be surprised, for he had never before heard his cousin Jasper speak in anything but the loudest scream.

Then Mr. Crow explained that he had never liked the name his parents had given him and that he wanted nobody in Pleasant Valley to learn what it was.

"You must promise me," said Mr. Crow—and there was a dangerous glitter in his eye—"you must promise me that you'll never speak my name again."

"Why, certainly!" Jasper Jay replied. "I'm glad to oblige you, I'm sure. And I promise that I'll never, never, never again mention your name aloud, Cousin Jim."

There! The secret is out! Jasper Jay said Mr. Crow's name without once thinking what he was about. And Mr. Crow was so angry that he gave his cousin a sound beating, on the spot.

"I'll teach you," he said, "to do as you're told!" And he did. For after that Jasper Jay always remembered that to him, as to everybody else, his big black cousin must be known only as "Mr. Crow."

You see, "Jim Crow" was a name that Mr. Crow could not abide. The mere sound of it made him wince. And he was not a person of tender feelings, either.

III

THE GIANT SCARECROW

Farmer Green always claimed that Mr. Crow was a ruffian and a robber.

"That old chap has been coming here every summer for years," he said to his son Johnnie one day. "I always know him when I see him, because he's the biggest of all the crows that steal my corn."

That was Farmer Green's way of looking at a certain matter. But old Mr.
Crow regarded it otherwise. He knew well enough what Farmer Green thought
of his trick of digging up the newly planted corn. And his own idea and
Farmer Green's did not agree at all.

Now, this matter was something that old Mr. Crow never mentioned unless somebody else spoke of it first. And then Mr. Crow would shake his head slowly, and sigh, and say:

"It's strange that Farmer Green doesn't understand how much I help him. I'm as busy as I can be all summer long, destroying insects that injure his crops. And since I help Farmer Green to raise his corn, I'm sure I have as good a right to a share of it as the horses that plough the field, or the men that hoe it. Farmer Green gives them corn to eat. But he never once thinks of giving me any."

You see, there are always two sides to every question. And that was Mr.
Crow's. But Farmer Green never knew how Mr. Crow felt about the matter.
And every spring, at corn-planting time, he used to set up scarecrows
in his cornfield, hoping that they would frighten the crows away.

And so they did. At least, some of the younger crows were afraid of those straw-stuffed dummies, with their hats tipped over their faces, or upon one side, and their empty sleeves flapping in the winds that swept through the valley. But old Mr. Crow was too wise to be fooled so easily. He would scratch up the corn at the very feet of a scarecrow—and chuckle at the same time.

It must not be supposed that Farmer Green did not know what was going on. He often caught sight of Mr. Crow in the cornfield. But it always happened that Mr. Crow saw him too. And Farmer Green could never get near the old rogue.

At last Johnnie Green's father spent a whole evening trying to think of some way in which to outwit Mr. Crow. And by bedtime he had hit upon a plan that he liked.

The next day, with Johnnie to help him, he set to work to build a monster scarecrow. It was twice as high as the tallest man that was ever seen. And for a hat Farmer Green set on its straw head a huge tin pan, which glittered when the sun shone upon it.

"That'll fix him!" said Farmer Green, as he stood off and looked at the giant. And as for his son Johnnie, he danced up and down and shouted—he was so pleased.

But Mr. Crow was not pleased when he flew toward the cornfield the next day and saw the great figure of a man there, with a terrible glittering helmet upon his head. And Mr. Crow noticed something upon the giant's shoulder that looked very like a gun.

The old gentleman swerved quickly to one side and never stopped his flight until he had reached the woods.

And that night Farmer Green felt quite merry.

"I've scared that old crow away at last," he said.

IV

CAUGHT NAPPING

It was several days before Mr. Crow stopped sulking. He was very angry with Farmer Green for placing the giant in the cornfield. And he told his friends that he had about made up his mind he would move to some other neighborhood.

"Farmer Green will be sorry after I'm gone," he remarked. "He'll miss me when he finds that his crops are being eaten by mildreds of insects." Whether he meant millions or hundreds it would be hard to say. You see, Mr. Crow was not good at arithmetic. He always had trouble counting higher than ten.

And then, the very day before he had planned to move, Mr. Crow noticed something that made him change his mind. He was sitting in the top of a tall pine, looking mournfully across the cornfield, where he dared not go, when he saw a small bird drop down upon the giant's head and disappear.

"He's eaten her!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. But as he stared, the little bird appeared again and flew away.

Old Mr. Crow knew it was a mother wren; and he was not long in discovering that she had built a nest under the tin pan that the giant wore in place of a hat!

That was enough for Mr. Crow. The secret was out! The thing he had feared was nothing worse than a straw scarecrow, with a stick stuck over its shoulder to look like a gun.

The old gentleman felt quite foolish for a time. But he did not let that fact prevent his scratching up enough corn to make up for the meals he had lost.

After that he quickly recovered his spirits. And he forgot all about moving.

But if Mr. Crow felt merry, you may be sure that Farmer Green did not.
It was his turn to feel foolish. And he vowed that he would get even with
Mr. Crow, if it took him all summer.

Meanwhile, Mr. Crow grew careless. He really thought that Farmer Green wouldn't be able to think of any other way of keeping him out of the cornfield. And he spent so much of his time there that he grew quite fat. He became somewhat short-breathed, too. And his voice grew wheezier than ever. But Mr. Crow did not mind those things. He was getting all the corn he could eat. And he was happy.

Then there came a morning at last, as he soared down upon the cornfield, when he noticed that the huge scarecrow was gone. There was another—a shorter—figure in its place. But to careless Mr. Crow's glance it seemed no different from the scarecrows he had known all his life. He paid little or no attention to the image. It wore the big pan upon its head—he observed that much. And it made him laugh.

Then Mr. Crow began to scratch for his breakfast. But he had not eaten a single kernel when a terrible roar broke the early morning stillness. And there was a sound as of hail falling all around him.

Mr. Crow knew right away what had happened. The scarecrow had come to life and tried to shoot him! And if ever a bird hurried away from that field, it was old Mr. Crow.

It was almost night before he remembered that he had had