When the starling sang the song for the thousandth time, the boy rode over the place.  He put his hands up to his mouth, as a pipe, and called:  “The magpie will get them.  The magpie will get them.”

“Who is it that wants to frighten me?” asked the starling, and flapped his wings uneasily.  “It is Captured-by-Crows that frightens you,” said the boy.  This time the crow-chief didn’t attempt to hush him up.  Instead, both he and his flock were having so much fun that they cawed with satisfaction.

The farther inland they came, the larger were the lakes, and the more plentiful were the islands and points.  And on a lake-shore stood a drake and kowtowed before the duck.  “I’ll be true to you all the days of my life.  I’ll be true to you all the days of my life,” said the drake.  “It won’t last until the summer’s end,” shrieked the boy.  “Who are you?” called the drake.  “My name’s Stolen-by-Crows,” shrieked the boy.

At dinner time the crows lighted in a food-grove.  They walked about and procured food for themselves, but none of them thought about giving the boy anything.  Then Fumle-Drumle came riding up to the chief with a dog-rose branch, with a few dried buds on it.  “Here’s something for you, Wind-Rush,” said he.  “This is pretty food, and suitable for you.”  Wind-Rush sniffed contemptuously.  “Do you think that I want to eat old, dry buds?” said he.  “And I who thought that you would be pleased with them!” said Fumle-Drumle; and threw away the dog-rose branch as if in despair.  But it fell right in front of the boy, and he wasn’t slow about grabbing it and eating until he was satisfied.

When the crows had eaten, they began to chatter.  “What are you thinking about, Wind-Rush?  You are so quiet to-day,” said one of them to the leader.  “I’m thinking that in this district there lived, once upon a time, a hen, who was very fond of her mistress; and in order to really please her, she went and laid a nest full of eggs, which she hid under the store-house floor.  The mistress of the house wondered, of course, where the hen was keeping herself such a long time.  She searched for her, but did not find her.  Can you guess, Longbill, who it was that found her and the eggs?”

“I think I can guess it, Wind-Rush, but when you have told about this, I will tell you something like it.  Do you remember the big, black cat in Hinneryd’s parish house?  She was dissatisfied because they always took the new-born kittens from her, and drowned them.  Just once did she succeed in keeping them concealed, and that was when she had laid them in a haystack, out doors.  She was pretty well pleased with those young kittens, but I believe that I got more pleasure out of them than she did.”

Now they became so excited that they all talked at once.  “What kind of an accomplishment is that—­to steal little kittens?” said one.  “I once chased a young hare who was almost full-grown.  That meant to follow him from covert to covert.”  He got no further before another took the words from him.  “It may be fun, perhaps, to annoy hens and cats, but I find it still more remarkable that a crow can worry a human being.  I once stole a silver spoon—­”