"Oh!" said the Babe, with a long, appreciative inflection. Uncle Andy paused, leaving an opening for more questions. But the Babe refused to be drawn, so presently, with a comprehending grin, he went on: "It's rather a small affair for crows, you know, this colony of theirs here on Silverwater. I suppose they've been crowded out from the places they really prefer, along the skirts of the settlements on the other side of the Ridge. They would rather live always somewhere near the farms and the cleared fields. Not that they have any special affection for man. Far from it. They dislike him, and distrust him, and seem to think him a good deal of a fool, too. His so-called 'scarecrows' are a great joke to them, and have been known at times to afford some fine materials for the lining of their nests. But they find him so useful in many really important ways that they establish their colonies in his neighborhood whenever they possibly can." Here Uncle Andy made another long pause. He looked at the Babe suspiciously. "Is anything the matter?" he demanded. "No, thank you, Uncle Andy," replied the Babe politely. "But you haven't asked a single question for at least seven minutes," said Uncle Andy. "I was too busy listening to you," explained the Babe. "But there's one I'd like to ask, if it's all the same to you." "Well, fire away," said his uncle. "_Why_ did they all fly away like that, as if they had just remembered something awfully important? And why would you rather be a little tiny humming-bird than a crow? And why did it take the whole flock that way to teach the young ones to fly? And--and why are they afraid, when they are _born_ to fly? And why do they make fun of the stupid ones? And why would you like to be a wild goose? And, and--" "Stop! stop!" cried Uncle Andy. "I didn't know you had a Gatling about you when I told you to fire away. You wait and shoot those questions at Bill, just like that, to-night." "Well, but why--" "No, you must not interrupt," insisted Uncle Andy. "But you _asked_ me! I was just as quiet--" "I didn't know what I was doing!" said his uncle. "And I can't possibly answer all those questions. Why, I could never begin to remember half of them." "I can," interposed the Babe. "Oh, you needn't mind," said Uncle Andy, hastily. "But perhaps, if you listen with great care, you _may_ find answers to some of them in what I am going to tell you. Of course, I don't promise, for I don't know what you asked me. But _maybe_ you'll hear something that will throw some light on the subject." "Thank you very much," said the Babe.