"White squirrels?" interrupted Mr. Crow, eagerly.

"Did you ever see a white squirrel, Mr. Crow?" asked Bumper, instead of
answering this question.

"No, I never did."

"Then," sighing, "I'm afraid there are none."

Mr. Crow wasn't so much interested in white squirrels as in white crows,
and he dismissed the matter from his mind. After a pause, he added: "I
believe I'll take a trip to the city, if there's no danger. I'd like to
visit some of the white crows. It may be if I stay with them in the city,
I'll turn white, too."

Bumper didn't want to deceive him, but he was still afraid of him. Instead
of answering directly, he asked: "Before you go, Mr. Crow, can't you help
me to get ashore? I'm very tired of this raft. You make so much wind with
your beautiful wings, I'm sure you could blow me inshore with them."

"Yes, I suppose I could," was the reply. "Well, since you were kind enough
to tell me about my relatives in the city, I'll help you."

He began beating his wings violently, and the wind from them nearly blew
Bumper off the raft, but the board floated closer and closer to the shore
until the rabbit with a hop landed on it, and bade the crow good-bye.