for passing the fords. The great object aimed at, therefore,
"Oh, yes. Why, that's where I get my songs--inside of me, you know--that I play on my violin. And I made a crow sing, too. Only HE sang outside."
"SING--A CROW!" scoffed the man." Shucks! It'll take more 'n you ter make me think a crow can sing, my lad."
"But they do, when they're happy," maintained the boy. "Anyhow, it doesn't sound the same as it does when they're cross, or plagued over something. You ought to have heard this one to-day. He sang. He was so glad to get away. I let him loose, you see."
"You mean, you CAUGHT a crow up there in them woods?" The man's voice was skeptical.
"Oh, no, I didn't catch it. But somebody had, and tied him up. And he was so unhappy!"
"Oh, I didn't find THAT in the woods. It was before I went up the hill at all."
"A crow tied up--Look a-here, boy, what are you talkin' about? Where was that crow?" Perry Larson's whole self had become suddenly alert.
"In the field 'Way over there. And somebody--"
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