speak no ill of them.
But the crows were numerous, and poverty was great among them. They
didn't care to go the whole length of living a strictly moral life, so
they rebelled against the Whitefeathers, and gave the power to
Wind-Rush, who was the worst nest-plunderer and robber that could be
imagined--if his wife, Wind-Air, wasn't worse still. Under their
government the crows had begun to lead such a life that now they were
more feared than pigeon-hawks and leech-owls.

Naturally, Fumle-Drumle had nothing to say in the flock. The crows were
all of the opinion that he did not in the least take after his
forefathers, and that he wouldn't suit as a leader. No one would have
mentioned him, if he hadn't constantly committed fresh blunders. A few,
who were quite sensible, sometimes said perhaps it was lucky for
Fumle-Drumle that he was such a bungling idiot, otherwise Wind-Rush and
Wind-Air would hardly have allowed him--who was of the old chieftain
stock--to remain with the flock.

Now, on the other hand, they were rather friendly toward him, and
willingly took him along with them on their hunting expeditions. There
all could observe how much more skilful and daring they were than he.

None of the crows knew that it was Fumle-Drumle who had pecked the rag
out of the window; and had they known of this, they would have been very
much astonished. Such a thing as daring to approach a human being's
dwelling, they had never believed of him. He kept the thing to himself
very carefully; and he had his own good reasons for it. Wind-Rush always
treated him well in the daytime, and when the others were around; but
one very dark night, when the comrades sat on the night branch, he was
attacked by a couple of crows and nearly murdered. After that he moved
every night, after dark, from his usual sleeping quarters into the empty
cabin.

Now one afternoon, when the crows had put their nests in order on
crow-ridge, they happened upon a remarkable find. Wind-Rush,
Fumle-Drumle, and a couple of others had flown down into a big hollow in
one corner of the heath. The hollow was nothing but a gravel-pit, but
the crows could not be satisfied with such a simple explanation; they
flew down in it continually, and turned every single sand-grain to get
at the reason why human beings had digged it. While the crows were
pottering around down there, a mass of gravel fell from one side. They
rushed up to it, and had the good fortune to find amongst th