Jet Black. Looking around cautiously, he made a quick grab for the meat and swallowed it hurriedly. But he was too late; one o f the pigeons had seen him! Immediately this pigeon informed the others that this strange bird in their midst ate spoiled meat, hence he could not be a pigeon. Again they drove off poor Jet Black. That night, sitting alone in the tree, Jet Black made a- resolution that he would never again eat spoiled meat, or touch anything bad, as long as he was among the pigeons. He would only do it in secret. The third morning found Jet Black once again disguised with white ashes, feeding among the pigeons. He was going to be very careful how he walked and what he ate. He was hav ing a real feast o f grain. “ How much easier this is than trying to find food in the hot and barren fields o f famine- stricken India!” he said to himself as he filled his stomach. Then something happened. Just as Jet Black was congratulating himself on his good fortune, lo and behold his brother, Gray Bill, came and sat on a branch o f that very tree under which Jet Black was feeding. Gray Bill watched the pigeons for a while and then his attention was drawn to the strange-looking bird eating with them. “ That fellow looks like my brother, Jet Black, but his feathers seem to have turned gray,” thought Gray Bill. “ He walks like the pigeons, but he is my size. It must be my brother. I will call him and see what happens.” (Continued on Page SU)
J U N I O R K I NGS BU5INE55
By Martha S. Hooker
I ET BLACK was born and reared in a wee nest in a famine area of the great land o f India. His poor mother had to work hard to pro vide sufficient food for him and his brother. When he was still very young, his mother taught him to forage for his own food. At first it was a lot of fun, like playing “ hide and seek,” but as he grew older, he found providing his own daily food a difficult task. One day, sitting in a tree near a mission bungalow, Jet Black saw a man come out, take up a handful of grain, and throw it on the ground for the pigeons. At once an idea came into the little crow’s head. “ If only I could be a pigeon, then I would not have to work so hard to obtain my food,” he thought. “ So what can I do to make myself look like a pigeon?” Suddenly Jet Black was flying as fast as he could toward the city gar bage dump. He came right down upon a pile o f white ashes. Ttolling himself in the ashes and flapping his wings violently, he soon covered himself from head to foot. His black feathers were a whitish gray. Then he flew back to the tree where the pigeons were feeding. Very slowly and care fully he settled down on the ground and began to eat greedily. “ Oh, this is wonderful to have my food brought right to me!” he exclaimed, as he jumped excitedly from one grain of wheat to the other. The pigeons were surprised to see him, but he was white and, while he did not look exactly like them, they concluded he must at least be re lated to them, and so they allowed him to feed. But when he began to hop around, they began to wonder, for a pigeon always takes mincing little steps when it walks. They said one to another, “ Let us watch his walk. We can soon tell from that whether he is one o f us or not.” Just then Jet Black took a little jump toward another grain o f wheat. Immediately all the pigeons began to shout, “ This bird does not belong to us! He is a foreigner and a th ie f!” So with one accord they drove Jet Black away, pecking his now bedrag gled feathers with their beaks. Poor Jet Black! He sat in the tree
wondering what he should do next. How nice it had been to get his food so easily! He could not let an oppor tunity like that slip by! He finally decided to spend all night practicing how to walk like a pigeon. It was very hard for Jet Black to take those little steps, but he kept it up faithfully until dawn. When the urge to jump gripped him, he checked himself. The next morning, bright and early, Jet Black flew back to the pile of ashes, covered himself with another coat o f white and returned to the pigeons. As soon as the missionary tossed the grain to the pigeons, Jet Black again cautiously made his way into their midst. The pigeons observed that he was a stranger, but did not recognize him. Everything went well and Jet Black was enjoying a good breakfast until suddenly the smell of something he liked a lot came to him. He took little pigeon steps to the side o f the tree from which the odor pro ceeded. Sure enough, there was a piece o f delicious spoiled meat! “ Oh, i f only I can eat this without the pigeons seeing me!” exclaimed
JET B U C K
becomes
SNOW
WHITE
By Don Hillis Missionary to India
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