him.  Now, however, lonesome and lost as he was, the sound of a familiar voice made him tingle all over with a friendly feeling.  So he whined softly and wagged his tail feebly as he looked up at Blacky sitting in the top of a tall tree.  Presently Bowser limped out to the middle of the little clearing and turned first this way and then that way.  Then he sat down and howled dismally.  In an instant Blacky the Crow understood; Bowser was lost.

“So that’s the trouble,” muttered Blacky to himself.  “That silly dog has got himself lost.  I never will be able to understand how anybody can get lost.  I never in my life was lost, and never expect to be.  But it is easy enough to see that Bowser is lost and badly lost.  My goodness, how lame he is!  I wonder what’s happened to him.  Serves him right for hunting other people, but I’m sorry for him just the same.  What a helpless creature a lost dog is, anyway.  I suppose if he doesn’t find a house pretty soon he will starve to death.  Old Man Coyote wouldn’t.  Reddy Fox wouldn’t.  They would catch something to eat, no matter where they were.  I suppose they wouldn’t thank me for doing it, but just the same I think I’ll take pity on Bowser and help him out of his trouble.”

CHAPTER VIII

HOW BLACKY THE CROW HELPED BOWSER

    The blackest coat may cover the kindest heart.

    Bowser the Hound.

When Blacky the Crow said to himself that he guessed he would take pity on Bowser and help him out of his trouble, he knew that he could do it without very much trouble to himself.  Perhaps if there had been very much trouble in it, Blacky would not have been quite so ready and willing.  Then again, perhaps it isn’t fair to Blacky to think that he might not have been willing.  Even the most selfish people are sometimes kindly and unselfish.

Blacky knew just where the nearest house was.  You can always trust Blacky to know not only where every house is within sight of the places he frequents, but all about the people who live in each house.  Blacky makes it his business to know these things.  He could, if he would, tell you which houses have terrible guns in them and which have not.  It is by knowing such things that Blacky manages to avoid danger.

“If that dog knows enough to follow me, I’ll take him where he can at least get something to eat,” muttered Blacky.  “It won’t be far out of my way, anyway, because if he has any sense at all, I won’t have to go all the way over there.”

So Blacky spread his black wings and disappeared over the tree-tops in the direction of the nearest farmhouse.

Bowser watched him disappear and whined sadly, for somehow it made him feel more lonesome than before.  But for one thing he would have gone back to his bed of hay in the corner of that sugar camp.  That one thing was hunger.  It seemed to Bowser that his stomach was so empty that the very sides of it had fallen in.  He just must get something to eat.