human
Look at him, exclaimed Venison;
gpt
and settled on a tree nearby.
human
Caw! caw! he screamed again, looking down curiously at the squirrel, as much as to say,
gpt
Who cares for _your_ music! Then out hurried another squirrel, and another, breaking forth with joy, until the crow, fairly drowned out, spread his wings and soared away. Venison says,
human
Them crows can smell gunpowder, and that fellow know'd we hadn't any, when he lit so near us.
gpt
Venison says. His shadowy dress fades with the leaf, and after strutting about during the warmer months, making a great display of his finery, he