that people will not see what you are really doing. No one can be more
artful than Blacky the Crow when he sets out to be.

Blacky was smart enough not to let Reddy know that he was seeking
Reddy's help for Bowser. He soon found out that Reddy would not
knowingly help the least little bit, so he decided at once that the
only thing for him to do was to get Reddy to help unsuspectingly. He
changed the subject very abruptly.

"How are the chickens at Farmer Brown's?" inquired he.

Reddy looked up and grinned. "They seem to be in just as good health as
ever," said he, "so far as I can judge. Farmer Brown's boy seems to be
terribly suspicious. He locks them up at night so tight that not even
Shadow the Weasel could get his nose inside that henhouse."

Blacky's eyes twinkled, but he took care that Reddy should not see them.
"Farmer Brown's boy is different from some folks I know," said he.

"How's that?" demanded Reddy Fox.

"Why," replied Blacky, "there is a certain farmyard I know of where the
hens are not kept shut up at all in the daytime, but run around where
they please. I see them every day when I am flying over. They certainly
are fine-looking hens. I don't think I've ever seen fatter ones. Some of
them are so fat they can hardly run."

As Reddy Fox listened, a look of eagerness crept into his eyes, and his
mouth began to water. He just couldn't help it. "Where did you say those
hens are?" he asked, trying to speak carelessly.