stalking along, carrying a stick in one hand and a net in the other.

"That fellow is up to some mischief, I'll be bound," thought the crow:
"I will keep my eye on him." The man stopped under the tree, spread
the net on the ground; and taking a bag of rice out of his pocket,
he scattered the grains amongst the meshes of the net. Then he hid
himself behind the trunk of the tree from which the crow was watching,
evidently intending to stop there and see what would happen. The
crow felt pretty gore that the stranger had designs against birds,
and that the stick had something to do with the matter. He was quite
right; and it was not long before just what he expected came to pass.

A flock of pigeons, led by a specially fine bird who had been chosen
king because of his size and the beauty of his plumage, came flying
rapidly along, and noticed the white rice, but did not see the net,
because it was very much the same colour as the ground. Down swooped
the king, and down swept all the other pigeons, eager to enjoy a good
meal without any trouble to themselves. Alas, their joy was short
lived! They were all caught in the net and began struggling to escape,
beating the air with their wings and uttering loud cries of distress.

The crow and the man behind the tree kept very quiet, watching them;
the man with his stick ready to beat the poor helpless birds to
death, the crow watching out of mere curiosity. Now a very strange
and wonderful thing came to pass. The king of the pigeons, who had
his wits about him, said to the imprisoned birds:

"Take the net up in your beaks, all of you spread out your wings at
once, and fly straight up into the air as quickly as possible."