"I'll leave well enough alone," he said, "and stick to my raft."

Then he came to a woods through which the river flowed. It was swampy
here, and twigs and tree trunks seemed to grow out of the water long
distances from the shore.

"If I can find a tree fallen in the river, I'll hop on it and escape,"
Bumper reasoned.

He was so absorbed in watching for a chance to escape that he hardly
noticed a black shadow hovering over him. Not until it approached very
close did he duck his head and look up.

"Caw! Caw!"

It was a big, black crow. Now Bumper had never seen a crow. In fact, he
had never seen any of the wild animals of the woods, for it must be
remembered that he was born in the city. Of course, he had seen plenty of
sparrows, for they live in the cities, and also sewer rats. A few bats had
also flown over the old woman's backyard on warm nights hunting insects,
and Bumper was more or less acquainted with them.

But a crow! He didn't know what it was. So when the loud, raucous cry
assailed his ears, he squatted down on his raft, expecting every minute to
be attacked by the black shadow above.

"Caw! Caw!" screamed the big bird.

"Mr. Caw! Mr. Caw!" cried Bumper, supposing that was the bird's name.
"Good morning! How do you do?"