Presently he came to a little opening among the trees.  In the middle of it was a little house, a rough little house.  Blacky knew all about it.  It was a sugar camp.  He knew that only in the spring of the year was he likely to find anybody about there.  All the rest of the year it was shut up.  Every time he passed that way Blacky flew over it.  Blacky’s eyes are very sharp indeed, as everybody knows.  Now, as he drew near, he noticed right away that the door was partly open.  It hadn’t been that way the last time he passed.

“Ho!” exclaimed Blacky.  “I wonder if the wind blew that open, or if there is some one inside.  I think I’ll watch a while.”

So Blacky flew to the top of a tall tree from which he could look all over the little clearing and could watch the door of the little house.

For a long time he sat there as silent as the trees themselves.  Nothing happened.  He began to grow tired.  Rather, he began to grow so hungry that he became impatient.  “If there is anybody in there he must be asleep,” muttered Blacky to himself.  “I’ll see if I can wake him up.  Caw, caw, ca-a-w, caw, caw!”

Blacky waited a few minutes, then repeated his cry.  He did this three times and had just made up his mind that there was nobody inside that little house when a head appeared in the doorway.  Blacky was so surprised that he nearly fell from his perch.

“As I live,” he muttered, “that is Bowser the Hound!  It certainly is.  Now what is he doing way over here?  I’ve never known him to go so far from home before.”

CHAPTER VII

BLACKY THE CROW TAKES PITY ON BOWSER

    Beneath a coat of ebon hue
    May beat a heart that’s kind and true. 
    The worst of scamps in time of need
    Will often do a kindly deed.

    Bowser the Hound.

“Caw, ca-a-w!” exclaimed Blacky the Crow.  Bowser looked up to the top of the tall tree where Blacky sat, and in his great, soft eyes was such a look of friendliness that it gave Blacky a funny feeling.  You know Blacky is not used to friendly looks.  He is used to quite the other kind.  Bowser came out of the old sugar house where he had spent the night and whined softly as he looked up at Blacky, and as he whined he wagged his tail ever so slightly.  Blacky didn’t know what to make of it.  He had never been more surprised in his life.  He didn’t know which surprised him most, finding Bowser ’way over here where he had no business to be, or Bowser’s friendliness.

As for Bowser, he had spent such a forlorn, miserable night, and he was so terribly lonesome, that the very sound of Blacky’s voice had given him a queer thrill.  Never had he thought of Blacky the Crow as a friend.  In fact, he never thought much about Blacky at all.  Sometimes he had chased Blacky out of Farmer Brown’s corn-field early in the spring but that is all he ever had had to do with