"Caw, caw!" said a voice.

It was a rascal's voice.

"Caw, caw!" said another.

The Toyman jumped. He shook his fist.

"You old thief!" he called.

"Rogue, rogue, rogue!" growled Rover in his deep voice.

"Run, run, run!" barked Brownie.

"Rough, rough--rough, rough!" said little Wienerwurst in his funny voice.

"There he is," said the Toyman, "Mr. Jim Crow and all his wicked chums. See
there!"

All the children looked in the direction in which his finger pointed. Over
in the far corner of the field a flock of crows flew up from the waving
corn. A white horse, drawing a buggy, was trotting along the road by the
side of the cornfield. The driver had scared Mr. Jim Crow and all his
chums. They flapped their big black wings as they flew. And they flew very
straight, not like the pretty barn-swallows with their dark-blue wings. The
swallow is a happy bird and skims and dances in the air like a fancy skater
on the ice. But Mr. Jim Crow flies like an arrow. That is because he is
always up to some mischief and forever running away when someone finds
him out.