Blacky sat in the top of a tree near the bank of the Big River and
couldn't make up his mind what to do. He wanted to get home to the
big, thick hemlock-tree in the Green Forest before dusk, for Blacky
is afraid of the dark. That is, he is afraid to be out after dark.

"Go along home," said a voice inside him, "there is hardly time now
for you to get there before the Black Shadows arrive.

Don't waste any more time here. What may happen to those silly Ducks
is no business of yours, and there is nothing you can do, anyway. Go
along home."

"Wait a few minutes," said another little voice down inside
him. "Don't be a coward. You ought to warn Dusky the Black Duck and
his flock that a hunter with a terrible gun is waiting for them. Is
it true that it is no business of yours what happens to those Ducks?
Think again, Blacky; think again. It is the duty of each one who
sees a common danger to warn his neighbors. If something dreadful
should happen to Dusky because you were afraid of the dark, you
never would be comfortable in your own mind. Stay a little while and
keep watch."

Not five minutes later Blacky saw something that made him, oh, so
glad he had kept watch. It was a swiftly moving black line just
above the water far down the Big River, and it was coming up. He
knew what that black line was. He looked over at the hunter hiding
behind some bushes close to the edge of the water. The hunter was
crouching with his terrible gun in his hands and was peeping over
the bushes, watching that black line. He, too, knew what it was. It
was a flock of Ducks flying.