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.

So, after waiting a moment or two, Bowser turned and limped away
through the trees, and he limped in the direction which Blacky the Crow
had taken. You see, he could still hear Blacky's voice calling "Caw,
caw, caw", and somehow it made him feel better, less lonesome, you know,
to be within hearing of a voice he knew.