THE CROW AND THE PITCHER

No rain had fallen for many weeks. All the small streams and the ponds were dried up.

An old crow had been looking for water all the morning. At last he found some in a pitcher in a garden. He flew down to it and thrust in his bill; but he could not reach the water.

He walked around to the other side and tried again; but he could not get a drink. Oh, how very thirsty he was! It seemed as if he should faint.

"I must have that water. I will have it," he said.

Again he stretched his neck into the pitcher. No, he could not reach it.

He stopped a second and seemed to be thinking; then he said, "I will break the pitcher. My bill is strong and hard." So he gave the pitcher a hard thump. It did not break. He "thumped! thumped! thumped!" first here, then there. What a strong pitcher that was! It did not even crack.

"This will not do," he said. "I must try some other plan. I am big and strong. I will tip the pitcher over."

With that he pushed against it with his breast. It did not move. It seemed as if he must give up the attempt to get the water, but he did not once think of doing that.

Near by in the path lay some pebbles. The crow picked up one in his bill and let it fall into the pitcher. He dropped one after another into it. He could see the water rising a little. Now he worked harder than ever.

Before very long the water had risen so high that he could reach it with his bill. How refreshing it was! He drank as much as he wished, then flew away.