per's ears with his wings. "I'll teach you to laugh at my voice."

With that he struck out with both wings, and nearly upset Bumper from his
raft. Frightened by this exhibition of anger, Bumper's teeth chattered,
and his voice shook.

"I wasn't making fun of your voice, Mr. Caw," he said. "I think it's a
very sweet and pleasant voice. Please don't upset my raft."

The crow, a little mollified by this flattery, circled around the raft,
and surveyed the scene below with eyes filled with curiosity.

"What are you, anyway?" he called down at last. "You look like Mr. Rabbit,
but I never saw one so white before. What's your name? And what are you
doing on that raft?"

"I'm Bumper, the White Rabbit, and--"

"Rabbits are never white," interrupted the crow.

"But I assure you I am."

"Then you're not a rabbit. You're something else."

Bumper smiled and tried to look pleased. "Would you be something else if
you were white?" he asked.

Now this reference to an old fable of the crows touched a sensitive spot.
There were white crows, or at least there were rumors of them, and every
crow liked to believe the story was true. If one white crow, then why not
more? Why shouldn't all crows be white?

"Did you ever see a white crow?" the bird asked.

"Crow! Crow!" stammered Bumper. "Is that your name? I'm sorry, Mr. Crow, I
made a mistake. You see, I'm from the city, and crows don't live there."

"No, I should say not--unless the white ones do." He came nearer and
showed excitement. "Answer me. Did you ever see a white crow? If all
rabbits from the city are white, then maybe that's where the white crows
come from."

Now Bumper was learning shrewdness, and he saw right away through the
vanity of the bird that had him at his mercy. So, instead of answering
directly, he pretended that he knew a great deal more than he did.

"I'm surprised, Mr. Crow," he said, "that you've never been in the city to
see for yourself. You really mean to tell me you've never been in the
city?"

"Why, no, it's not a place for crows."

"Maybe not for black ones, but white crows are perfectly safe there, the
same as white rabbits. I never saw one hurt there."

"Don't men shoot them?"

"No. People don't shoot birds and animals in the city. They're not allowed
to carry guns at all. You're really safer than out here in the country."

"But there's nothing to eat in the city--not for crows. Is there?"

"All the white crows I knew were well fed. A