In a moment or two this heroic self-restraint had its reward.
"Trying to show some of the youngsters how to fly, and jeering at the
timid ones and the stupid ones!" explained Uncle Andy.
"Oh!" said the Babe, with a long, appreciative inflection.
Uncle Andy paused, leaving an opening for more questions. But the Babe
refused to be drawn, so presently, with a comprehending grin, he went
on:
"It's rather a small affair for crows, you know, this colony of theirs
here on Silverwater. I suppose they've been crowded out from the
places they really prefer, along the skirts of the settlements on the
other side of the Ridge. They would rather live always somewhere near
the farms and the cleared fields. Not that they have any special
affection for man. Far from it. They dislike him, and distrust him,
and seem to think him a good deal of a fool, too. His so-called
'scarecrows' are a great joke to them, and have been known at times to
afford some fine materials for the lining of their nests. But they
find him so useful in many really important ways that they establish
their colonies in his neighborhood whenever they possibly can."
Here Uncle Andy made another long pause. He looked at the Babe
suspiciously.
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