his head.

"No!" he answered. "I shouldn't want to do that, because one never could
tell when he might take a notion to jump into the water."

"Oh! Then he can swim, can he?"

"Certainly!" Mr. Crow assured him.

"Then that's another way in which he's like me!" Timothy Turtle cried.
"And if I could only fly, I'd be still more like him."

"Why don't you learn?" Mr. Crow suggested wickedly.

"I'm too old," Timothy sighed.

"Not at all!" Mr. Crow hastened to assure him. "One can never be too old
to _try_ a thing."

But Timothy Turtle replied that even if he was young enough to attempt
such a feat as flying, he hadn't the least idea of the way to go about
it.

Old Mr. Crow was most helpful.

"I'll tell you what you ought to do," he advised. "You swim down the
creek as far as the big bluff. And it will be a simple matter for you to
climb up to the top of the bluff and jump off the rock that hangs high
up over the water."

Timothy Turtle looked far from happy at that suggestion.

"I shouldn't care to do that," he said.

"Why not?" Mr. Crow asked him. "You know there's only one way of flying,
and that's through the air."

"I might fall," Timothy objected.

"What if you did?" said Mr. Crow glibly. "You'd only fall into the
water. And everybody agrees that you're a fine swimmer.... You aren't
afraid of getting your feet wet, are you?" And he laughed loudly at his
own joke.

For some reason Timothy lost his temper. Perhaps he thought Mr. Crow was
disrespectful to his elders.

"Look here, young man!" he snapped, glaring angrily at old Mr. Crow. "If
you're laughing at me, I'll invite you to drop down here and stand on
the end of my nose."

Old Mr. Crow grew sober at once. The mere thought of perching himself in
so dangerous a place was enough to put a quick end to his noisy
_haw-haws_.

"My dear sir!" he cried. "I wouldn't _dream_ of standing on the nose of
a fine old gentleman like you. No indeedy! My manners are too good for
that."

Timothy Turtle said bluntly that he had always been told that Mr. Crow
was the rudest person in all Pleasant Valley--unless it was Mr. Crow's
boisterous cousin, Jasper Jay.

When he heard that, Mr. Crow pretended to wipe a tear away from each of
his eyes.

"I've always been misunderstood," he declared mournfully. "I'm really a
kind-hearted soul. And just to prove to you that I want to be helpful,
I'll meet you at the bluff any time you say, and tell you exactly what
to d