"Not at all!" Brownie replied. "I'd like to know what's happening over
in Pleasant Valley. It takes so long for news to reach us here in our
pond that it's often hardly worth listening to when we hear it--it's
so old. Now, what I'd really prefer is a newspaper that would tell me
everything that's going to happen a week later."

Mr. Crow said he never heard of a newspaper like that.

"Well, somebody ought to start one," Brownie Beaver answered.

Mr. Crow thought deeply for some minutes without saying a word. And at
last He cried suddenly:

"I have an idea!"

"Have you?" Brownie Beaver exclaimed. "What is it, Mr. Crow?"

"I'll be your newspaper!" Mr. Crow told him.

At that Brownie Beaver looked somewhat doubtful.

"That's very kind of you," he said. "But I'm afraid it wouldn't do me
much good. You're so black that the ink wouldn't show on you at all---
unless," he added, "they use _white_ ink to print on you."

"You don't understand," old Mr. Crow said. "What I mean is this: I'll
fly over here once a week and tell you everything that's happened. Of
course," he continued, "I can't very well tell you everything that is
going to take place the following week. But I'll do my best."