You know it is food that makes heat in the body.
So in the winter Blacky is in the habit of flying long distances in
search of food. He often goes some miles from the thick hemlock-tree in
the Green Forest where he spends his nights. You may see him starting
out early in the morning and returning late in the afternoon.
Now Blacky knew all about that river into which Bowser the Hound had
fallen. There was a certain place on that river where Jack Frost never
did succeed in making ice. Sometimes things good to eat would be washed
up along the edge of this open place. Blacky visited it regularly. He
was on the way there now, flying low over the tree-tops.
Presently he came to a little opening among the trees. In the middle of
it was a little house, a rough little house. Blacky knew all about it.
It was a sugar camp. He knew that only in the spring of the year was he
likely to find anybody about there. All the rest of the year it was shut
up. Every time he passed that way Blacky flew over it. Blacky's eyes are
very sharp indeed, as everybody knows. Now, as he drew near, he noticed
right away that the door was partly open. It hadn't been that way the
last time he passed.
"Ho!" exclaimed Blacky. "I wonder if the wind blew that open, or if
there is some one inside. I think I'll watch a while."
So Blacky flew to the top of a tall tree from which he could look all
over the little clearing and could watch the door of the little house.
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