"I suppose," he muttered, "I can tear down his blind. He wouldn't
know who did it. But that wouldn't do much good; he would build
another. Besides, it wouldn't be right. He has a perfect right to
make a blind here, and having made it, it is his and I haven't any
right to touch it. I won't do a thing I haven't a right to do. That
wouldn't be honest. I've got to think of some other way of saving
those Ducks."

The frown on his freckled face grew deeper, and for a long time he
sat without moving. Suddenly his face cleared, and he jumped to his
feet. He began to chuckle. "I have it!" he exclaimed. "I'll do a
little shooting myself!" Then he chuckled again and started for
home. Presently he began to whistle, a way he has when he is in good
spirits.

Blacky the Crow watched him go, and Blacky was well satisfied. He
didn't know what Farmer Brown's boy was planning to do, but he had a
feeling that he was planning to do something, and that all would be
well. Perhaps Blacky wouldn't have felt so sure could he have
understood what Farmer Brown's boy had said about doing a little
shooting himself.

As it was, Blacky flew off about his own business, quite satisfied
that now all would be well, and he need worry no more about those
Ducks. None of the little people of the Green Forest and the Green
Meadows knew Farmer Brown's boy better than did Blacky the
Crow. None knew better than he that Farmer Brown's boy was their
best friend. "It is all right now," chuckled Blacky. "It is all
right now." And as the cheery whistle of Farmer Brown's boy floated