It slipped a wee
bit more. Blacky started down towards the ground. But he wasn't
quick enough. Striped Chipmunk, watching Blacky from the old stone
wall, saw something white drop from Blacky's claws. He saw Blacky
dash after it and clutch at it only to miss it. Then the white thing
struck a branch of an old apple tree, bounced off and fell to the
ground. Blacky followed it.
Striped Chipmunk stole very softly through the grass to see what
Blacky was doing. Blacky was standing close beside a white thing
that looked very much like an egg. He was looking at it with the
queerest expression.
Now and then he would reach out and rap it sharply with his bill,
and then look as if he didn't know what to make of it. He
didn't. That egg wasn't behaving
right. It should have broken when it hit the branch of the apple
tree. Certainly it should have broken when he struck it that way
with his bill. However was he to eat that egg, if he couldn't break
the shell? Blacky didn't know.
CHAPTER XXXII: What Blacky Did With The Stolen Egg
Blacky was puzzled. He didn't know what to make of that egg he had
stolen from Farmer Brown's henhouse. It wasn't like any egg he ever
had seen or even heard of. It was a beautiful-looking egg, and he
had been sure that it would taste as good, quite as good as it
looked. Even now he wasn't sure that if he could only taste it, it
would be all that he had hoped. But how could he taste it, when he
couldn't break that shell? He never had heard of such a shell.
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