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“There, old wooden top,” the Toyman spoke to him sternly. “Don’t leave your beat.”

But Marmaduke was puzzled.

“How could he scare Mr. Jim Crow away like a policeman? He can’t run with that wooden leg.”

“Silly,” said Jehosophat, for he was older than Marmaduke and knew Mr. Scarecrow very well.

“Ha, ha, ha, that’s another good one,” said the Toyman. “Of course he can’t run. But when all the Crows see him standing up in the cornfield they think he is a real man. They are afraid Mr. Scarecrow will shoot. For they know that things that wear coats and hats often have guns. And guns have killed their chums. So they do not come very near when Mr. Scarecrow is around.”

“Caw, caw!” sounded the old rascals again. But the crows were far away. The three happy children could see them way up in the old chestnut tree over on the edge of their neighbour’s wood.

In the fork of two high branches was a great round nest–oh ever so much bigger than the thrush’s and the oriole’s. It was a crow’s nest. Sailors often call the little turret built around the mast, where they stand and look out over the sea, a “crow’s nest.” It looks something like that.

But Mr. Jim Crow’s chums didn’t come near the cornfield that day.

At night, when they were ready for bed, Jehosophat said to Marmaduke:

“I wonder if old Mr. Scarecrow is out there now.”

“Course he is,” his brother assured him.

“Let’s see!”

So they jumped out of bed and, in their white nightgowns, tiptoed over the floor to the window. The Old-Man-in-the-Moon was up. He looked as round and fat as a pumpkin in the sky.

He winked at them.

The Old-Man-in-the-Moon made it very bright so that they could see.

Sure enough, way out in the cornfield stood Mr. Scarecrow.

His hat and coat were on and he was standing up like a man, very straight and still. His arms were outstretched to tell Mr. Jim Crow’s chums that he was ready for them.

But though they are thieves, the Black Crows are not night burglars and they were fast asleep in the nests in the wood.

The Man-in-the-Moon winked at them three times, once with his right eye, once with his left eye, then again with the right.

And the three happy children thought they heard him say three times:

“Back to bed, back to bed, back to bed!”

Then they heard the sound of bells. Seven times they sounded. It was from the church over in the town,–the big white church with the long finger pointing at the sky. And the Little-Clock-with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantel, answered back.

So they obeyed the old yellow Man-in-the-Moon and scampered like little white mice back to bed.