And one morning, when Mr. Crow went to his meal-sack and his flour-bag and his pile of odds and ends there was just barely enough for breakfast, and hardly that. And Mr. Crow didn't like to tell them about it, for he knew they all thought he could keep right on making johnny-cake and gravy forever, because they didn't have to stop to think where things came from, as he did, and he was afraid they would blame him when there was nothing more left.
So the Old Black Crow tried to step around lively and look pleasant, to keep anybody from noticing, because he thought it might turn warm that day and melt the snow; and when breakfast was ready he put on what there was and said he hadn't cooked very much because he had heard that light breakfasts were better for people who stayed in the house a good deal, and as for himself, he said he guessed he wouldn't eat any breakfast that morning at all.
Then while the others were eating he crept down-stairs and looked at the empty boxes and barrels and the few sticks of wood that were left, and he knew that if that snow didn't melt off right away they were going to have a _very hard time_. Then he came back up in the big living-room and went on up-stairs to his own room, to look out the window to see if it wasn't going to be a warm, melting day. But Mr. Crow came back pretty soon. He came back in a hurry, too, and he slammed his door and locked it, and then let go of everything and just slid down-stairs. Then the Deep Woods People jumped up quick from the table and ran to him, for they thought he was having a fit of some kind, and they still thought so when they looked into his face: for Mr. Crow's eyes were rolled up and his bill was pale, and when he tried to speak he couldn't. And Mr. Rabbit said it was because Mr. Crow had done without his breakfast, and he ran to get something from the table; but Mr. Crow couldn't eat, and then they saw that some of the feathers on top of his head were turning gray, and they knew he had seen some awful thing just that little moment he was in his room.
So then they all looked at one another and wondered what it was, and they were glad Mr. Crow had locked the door. Then they carried him over to the fire, and pretty soon he got so he could whisper a little, and when they knew what he was saying they understood why he was so scared and why he had locked the door; for the words that Mr. Crow kept whispering over and over were: "Old Hungry-Wolf! Old Hungry-Wolf! Old Hungry-Wolf!"