It took Mr. Crow no time at all to sail through the air and
drop down at a good, safe distance from where Farmer Green and his hired
man were planting corn. They had already planted several long rows. And
Mr. Crow at once set to work to scratch up the yellow kernels and swallow
them greedily.
He was enjoying his meal greatly when he caught sight of a small, striped
person busily engaged in doing the very same thing. It was Sandy
Chipmunk! And Mr. Crow hurried over to the row where Sandy was looking
for corn.
"What are you doing here?" Mr. Crow asked angrily.
"I might ask you the same question," Sandy answered.
"You followed me--that's what you did!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "Of all the
prying busybodies I know, you are certainly the worst. This is not your
field; and I shall have to ask you to leave it at once."
"Oh! I'll leave the field," said Sandy Chipmunk. "I don't want the field.
You can have _that_. All I want is some of the corn. There ought to be
enough for both of us."
Mr. Crow muttered something about _impertinence_, which Sandy Chipmunk
didn't understand. Then Mr.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68