Bowser the Hound.

Blacky the Crow wasted no time with Old Man Coyote after he heard Old Man Coyote laugh.  There was a note in that crazy laugh of Old Man Coyote’s that told Blacky he might just as well talk to the rocks or the trees about helping Bowser the Hound.  Old Man Coyote had led Bowser into his trouble, and it was quite clear that not only did he have no regrets, but he was actually glad that Bowser was not likely to return.

“You’re a hard-hearted old sinner,” declared Blacky, as he prepared to fly in search of Reddy Fox.

Old Man Coyote grinned.  “It is every one for himself, you know,” said he.  “Bowser would do his best to catch me if he had the chance.  So if he is in trouble, he can stay there for all of me.”

It didn’t take Blacky long to find Reddy Fox.  You see, it was so early in the morning that Reddy had not retired for his daily nap.  Like Old Man Coyote, he was just returning from a night’s hunt when Blacky arrived.

“Hello, Reddy!” exclaimed Blacky.  “You certainly are looking in mighty fine condition.  That red coat of yours is the handsomest coat I’ve ever seen.  If I had a coat like that I know I should be so swelled up with pride that I just wouldn’t be able to see common folks.  I’m glad you’re not that way, Reddy.  One of the things I like about you is the fact that you never allow your fine coat to make you proud.  That is more than I can say for some folks I know.”

Reddy Fox sat down with his big bushy tail curled around to keep his toes warm, cocked his head on one side, and looked up at Blacky the Crow as if he were trying to see right inside that black head to find out what was going on there.

“Now what has that black scamp got in his mind,” thought Reddy.  “He never pays compliments unless he wants something in return.  That old black rascal has the smoothest tongue in the Green Forest.  He hasn’t come ’way over here just to tell me that I have a handsome coat.  He wouldn’t fly over a fence to tell anybody that unless it was for a purpose.”

Aloud he said, “Good morning, Blacky.  I suppose I must admit I have a fine coat.  Perhaps I do look very fine, but if you could see under this red coat of mine, you would find mighty little meat on my ribs.  To be quite honest, I am not feeling half as fine as I look.  You lucky fellows who can fly and don’t have to think about distances may be able to live well these days, but as for me, I’ve forgotten when last I had a good meal.”

CHAPTER XXVI

RED WITS AND BLACK WITS

    This fact you’ll find is always so: 
    He’s quick of wit who fools a Crow.

    Bowser the Hound.

There is no greater flatterer in the Green Forest or on the Green Meadows than Blacky the Crow when he hopes to gain something thereby.  His tongue is so smooth that it is a wonder it does not drip oil.  He is crafty, is Blacky.  But these same things are true of Reddy Fox.  No one ever yet had a chance to accuse Reddy Fox of lacking in sharp wits.  Mistakes he makes, as everybody does, but Reddy’s wits are always keen and active.