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Title: The Tale of Solomon Owl

Author: Arthur Scott Bailey

Release Date: 2005-09 [Ebook #16663]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO 8859-1


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL***





The Tale of Solomon Owl
By Arthur Scott Bailey

Author of "The Tale of Sandy Chipmunk," "The Tale of Tommy Fox," etc.
_Illustrated by Harry L. Smith_

New York
Grosset & Dunlap
1917





                             [_Frontispiece_]

                     Solomon Owl Sat Up And Listened.





                                 CONTENTS


Illustrations
I - Scaring Johnny Green
II - A Newcomer
III - Solomon Likes Frogs
IV - An Odd Bargain
V - The Cold Weather Coat
VI - Solomon Needs a Change
VII - The Blazing Eyes
VIII - Watching The Chickens
IX - Hallowe'en
X - A Troublesome Wishbone
XI - Cured At Last
XII - Benjamin Bat
XIII - The Lucky Guest
XIV - Hanging By The Heels
XV - Disputes Settled
XVI - Nine Fights
XVII - Cousin Simon Screecher
XVIII - A Cousinly Quarrel
XIX - The Sleet Storm
XX - A Pair Of Red-Heads
XXI - At Home In The Haystack
XXII - It Was Solomon's Fault





ILLUSTRATIONS


      Solomon Owl Sat Up And Listened _Frontispiece_
      Solomon Found Mr. Frog's Shop Was Closed
      Benjamin Bat Asked Solomon's Advice
      "It's All Right!" Said Solomon






THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL





I
SCARING JOHNNY GREEN


When Johnnie Green was younger, it always scared him to hear Solomon Owl's
deep-toned voice calling in the woods after dark.

"_Whoo-whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo, to-whoo-ah_!" That weird cry was enough to
send Johnnie Green hurrying into the farmhouse, though sometimes he paused
in the doorway to listen--especially if Solomon Owl happened to be
laughing. His "_haw-haw-hoo-hoo_," booming across the meadow on a crisp
fall evening, when the big yellow moon hung over the fields of corn-shocks
and pumpkins, sounded almost as if Solomon were laughing at the little boy
he had frightened. There was certainly a mocking, jeering note in his
laughter.

Of course, as he grew older, Johnnie Green no longer shivered on hearing
Solomon's rolling call. When Solomon laughed, Johnnie Green would laugh,
too. But Solomon Owl never knew that, for often he was half a mile from
the farm buildings.

A "hoot owl," Johnnie Green termed him. And anyone who heard Solomon
hooting of an evening, or just before sunrise, would have agreed that it
was a good name for him. But he was really a _barred_ owl, for he had bars
of white across his feathers.

If you had happened to catch Solomon Owl resting among the thick hemlocks
near the foot of Blue Mountain, where he lived, you would have thought
that he looked strangely like a human being. He had no "horns," or
ear-tufts, such as some of the other owls wore; and his great pale face,
with its black eyes, made him seem very wise and solemn.

In spite of the mild, questioning look upon his face whenever anyone
surprised him in the daytime, Solomon Owl was the noisiest of all the
different families of owls in Pleasant Valley. There were the barn owls,
the long-eared owls, the short-eared owls, the saw-whet owls, the screech
owls--but there! there's no use of naming them all. There wasn't one of
them that could equal Solomon Owl's laughing and hooting and shrieking and
wailing--at night.

During the day, however, Solomon Owl he was quiet about it. One reason for
his silence then was that he generally slept when the sun was shining. And
when most people were sleeping, Solomon Owl was as wide awake as he could
be.

He was a night-prowler--if ever there was one. And he could see a mouse on
the darkest night, even if it stirred ever so slightly.

That was unfortunate for the mice. But luckily for them, Solomon Owl
couldn't be in more than one place at a time. Otherwise, there wouldn't
have been a mouse left in Pleasant Valley--if he could have had _his_ way.

And though he didn't help the mice, he helped Farmer Green by catching
them. If he did take a fat pullet once in a while, it is certain that he
more than paid for it.

So, on the whole, Farmer Green did not wood-lot. And for a long time
Solomon raised no objection to Farmer Green's living near Swift River.

But later Solomon Owl claimed that it would be a good thing for the forest
folk if they could get rid of the whole Green family--and the hired man,
too.





II
A NEWCOMER


Upon his arrival, as a stranger, in Pleasant Valley, Solomon Owl looked
about carefully for a place to live. What he wanted especially was a good,
_dark_ hole, for he thought that sunshine was very dismal.

Though he was willing to bestir himself enough to suit anybody, when it
came to _hunting_, Solomon Owl did not like to work. He was no busy
nest-builder, like Rusty Wren. In his search for a house he looked several
times at the home of old Mr. Crow. If it had suited him better, Solomon
would not have hesitated to take that it was altogether _too light_ to
please him.

That was lucky for old Mr. Crow. And the black rascal knew it, too. He had
noticed that Solomon Owl was hanging about the neighborhood. And several
times he caught Solomon examining his nest.

But Mr. Crow did not have to worry long. For as it happened, Solomon Owl
at last found exactly what he wanted. In an old, hollow hemlock, he came
across a cozy, dark cavity. As soon as he saw it he knew that it was the
very thing! So he moved in at once. And except for the time that he spent
in the meadow--which was considerably later--he lived there for a good many
years.

Once Fatty Coon thought that he would drive Solomon out of his snug house
and live in it himself. But he soon changed Solomon Owl--so Fatty
discovered--had sharp, strong claws and a sharp, strong beak as well, which
curled over his face in a cruel hook.

It was really a good thing for Solomon Owl--the fight he had with Fatty
Coon. For afterward his neighbors seldom troubled him--except when Jasper
Jay brought a crowd of his noisy friends to tease Solomon, or Reddy
Woodpecker annoyed him by rapping on his door when he was asleep.

But those rowdies always took good care to skip out of Solomon's reach.
And when Jasper Jay met Solomon alone in the woods at dawn or dusk he was
most polite to the solemn old chap. _Then_ it was "How-dy-do, Mr. Owl!"
and "I hope you're well to-day!" And when Solomon Jasper, that bold fellow
always felt quite uneasy; and he was glad when Solomon Owl looked away.

If Solomon Owl chanced to _hoot_ on those occasions, Jasper Jay would jump
almost out of his bright blue coat. Then Solomon's deep laughter would
echo mockingly through the woods.

You see, though not nearly so wise as he appeared, Solomon Owl knew well
enough how to frighten some people.





III
SOLOMON LIKES FROGS


It was a warm summer's evening--so warm that Mr. Frog, the tailor, had
taken his sewing outside his tailor's shop and seated himself cross-legged
upon the bank of the brook, where he sang and sewed without ceasing--except
to take a swim now and then in the cool water, "to stretch his legs," as
he claimed.

He was making a new suit of blue clothes for Jasper Jay. And since Jasper
was a great dandy, and very particular Mr. Frog was taking special pains
with his sewing.

Usually he did his work quickly. But now after every five stitches that he
put into his work he stopped to take out ten. And naturally he was not
getting on very fast. He had been working busily since early morning; and
Jasper Jay's suit was further than ever from being finished.

Since he was a most cheerful person, Mr. Frog did not mind that. Indeed,
he was more than pleased, because the oftener he took a swim the fewer
stitches he lost. So he sang the merriest songs he knew.

The light was fast fading when a hollow laugh startled Mr. Frog. It seemed
to come from the willow tree right over his head. And he knew without
looking up that it was Solomon Owl's deep voice.

Mr. Frog tried to leap into the brook. But when he uncrossed his legs, in
his haste he tangled them up in his sewing. And all he could do was to
turn a somersault backward among some bulrushes, hoping that Solomon Owl
had not seen him.

It is no secret that Mr. Frog was terribly afraid of Solomon Owl. Some of
Mr. Frog's friends had mysteriously disappeared. And they had last been
seen in Solomon's company.

As it happened, Mr. Frog had hoped in vain. For Solomon Owl only laughed
more loudly than before. And then he said:

"What are you afraid of, Mr. Frog?"

The tailor knew at once that he was caught. So he hopped nimbly to his
feet and answered that there was nothing to be afraid of, so far as he
could see.

It was a true statement, too; because Mr. Frog had not yet discovered
Solomon Owl's exact whereabouts.

But he learned them soon; for Solomon immediately dropped down from the
big willow and alighted on the bank near Mr. Frog--altogether _too near_
him, in fact, for the tailor's comfort.

Solomon looked at Mr. Frog very solemnly. And he thought that he shivered.

"What's the matter? Are you ill?" Solomon Owl inquired. "You seem to be
shaking."

"Just a touch of chills and fever, probably!" replied Mr. Frog with an
uneasy smile. "You know it's very damp here."

"You don't look in the best of health--that's a fact!" Solomon Owl
remarked. "You appear to me to be somewhat green in the face." And he
laughed once more--that same hollow, mirthless laugh.

Mr. Frog couldn't help jumping, because the sound alarmed him.

"Don't be disturbed!" said Solomon Owl. "I like all the Frog family."

At that remark, Mr. Frog started violently That was exactly the trouble!
Solomon Owl was _altogether too fond_ of frogs, whether they were old or
young, big or little.

It was no wonder that Mr. Frog swallowed rapidly sixteen times before he
could say another word.





IV
AN ODD BARGAIN


While Mr. Frog was swallowing nothing rapidly, he was thinking rapidly,
too. There was something about Solomon Owl's big, staring eyes that made
Mr. Frog feel uncomfortable. And if he had thought he had any chance of
escaping he would have dived into the brook and swum under the bank.

But Solomon Owl was too near him for that. And Mr. Frog was afraid his
caller would pounce upon him any moment. So he quickly thought of a plan
to save himself. "No doubt----" he began. But Solomon Owl interrupted him.

"There!" cried Solomon. "You _can_ speak, after all. I supposed you'd
swallowed your tongue. And I was just waiting to see what you'd do next. I
thought maybe you would swallow your _head_."

Mr. Frog managed to laugh at the joke, though, to tell the truth, he felt
more nervous than ever. He saw what was in Solomon Owl's mind, for Solomon
was thinking of swallowing Mr. Frog's head himself.

"No doubt--" Mr. Frog resumed--"no doubt you've come to ask me to make you a
new suit of clothes."

Now, Solomon Owl had had no such idea at all. But when it was mentioned to
him, he rather liked it.

"Will you?" he inquired, with a highly interested air.

"Why, certainly!" the tailor replied. And for the first time since he had
turned his backward somersault into the bulrushes, he smiled widely. "I'll
tell you what I'll do!" he said. "First, I'll make you a coat free. And
second, if you like it I will then make you a waistcoat and trousers, at
double rates."

Solomon Owl liked the thought of getting a coat for nothing. But for all
that, he looked at the tailor somewhat doubtfully.

"Will it take you long?" he asked.

"No, indeed!" Mr. Frog told him. "I'll make your coat while you wait."

"Oh, I wasn't going away," Solomon assured him with an odd look which made
Mr. Frog shiver again. "Be quick, please! Because I have some important
business to attend to."

Mr. Frog couldn't help wondering if it wasn't he himself that Solomon Owl
was going to attend to. In spite of his fears, to work to cut up some
cloth that hung just outside his door.

"Stop!" Solomon Owl cried in a voice that seemed to shake the very ground.
"You haven't measured me yet!"

"It's not necessary," Mr. Frog explained glibly. "I've become so skilful
that one look at an elegant figure like yours is all that I need."

Naturally, Mr. Frog's remark pleased Solomon Owl. And he uttered ten rapid
hoots, which served to make Mr. Frog's fingers fly all the faster. Soon he
was sewing Solomon's coat with long stitches; and though his needle
slipped now and then, he did not pause to take out a single stitch. For
some reason, Mr. Frog was in a great hurry.

Solomon Owl did not appear to notice that the tailor was not taking much
pains with his sewing. Perhaps Mr. Frog worked so fast that Solomon could
not see what he was doing.

Anyhow, he was delighted when Mr. Frog suddenly cried:

"It's finished!" And then he tossed the coat to Solomon. "Try it on!" he
said. "I want to see how well it fits you."

Solomon Owl held up the garment and looked at it very carefully. And as he
examined it a puzzled look came over his great pale face.

There was something about his new coat that he did not understand.





V
THE COLD WEATHER COAT


Yes! As he held up his new coat and looked at it, Solomon Owl was puzzled.
He turned his head toward Mr. Frog and stared at him for a moment. And
then he turned his head away from the tailor and gazed upon the coat
again.

Mr. Frog was most uncomfortable--especially when Solomon looked at _him_.

"Everything's all right, isn't it?" he inquired.

Solomon Owl slowly shook his head.

"This is a queer coat!" he said. "What's this bag at the top of it?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Frog. "That's the hood! Knowing that you spend your
winters here in Pleasant Valley, I made a hood to go over your head....
You'll find it very comfortable in cold weather--and it's the latest style,
too. All the winter coats this year will have hoods, with holes to see
through, you know."

Solomon Owl looked relieved at Mr. Frog's explanation. But there was still
something more that appeared to trouble him.

"How shall I get into the coat?" he inquired. "It doesn't open in front,
as it should."

"Another cold-weather style!" Mr. Frog assured him. "It's wind-proof! And
instead of buttoning the coat, you pull it on over your head."

Solomon Owl said he didn't like that style very well.

"Then I can easily change it," the tailor told him. "But just try it on!"
he urged. "It may please you, after all."

So Solomon Owl pulled the coat over his head. And it fell down about him,
almost reaching his feet. But the coat did not seem to suit him at all,
for he began to splutter and choke.

"What's the matter now?" Mr. Frog asked him.

"I can't see--that's what's the matter!" Solomon Owl cried in a voice that
sounded hollower than ever, because it was muffled by the hood, which
covered his head.

"I declare--I haven't cut the holes for your eyes!" the tailor exclaimed.
"Just wait a moment and I'll make everything satisfactory." He clinked his
shears together sharply as he spoke.

But Solomon Owl told him that he wouldn't _think_ of letting anybody use
shears so near his eyes.

                            [_Illustration 1_]

                 Solomon Found Mr. Frog's Shop Was Closed


"I'll take off the coat," he said. "And I know now that you're a very poor
tailor, or you wouldn't have made such a mistake." He began to tug at the
coat. But he soon found that taking it off was not so easy as putting it
on. Solomon's sharp claws caught in the cloth; and his hooked beak, too,
fastened itself in the hood the moment he tried to pull the coat over his
head. "Here!" he cried to Mr. Frog. "Just lend me a hand! I can't see to
help myself."

But Mr. Frog did not even answer him.

"Don't you hear me?" Solomon Owl shouted, as he struggled with his new
coat, only to become tangled in it more than ever.

Still, the tailor said never a word, though something very like a giggle,
followed by a splash, caught Solomon's ear.

"He's left me!" Solomon Owl groaned.

"Mr. Frog has left me to get out of this coat alone. And goodness knows
how I'm ever a-going to do it." He threshed about so vigorously that he
tripped himself and fell upon the bank of the brook, rolling over and over
toward the water.

He had a very narrow escape. If he hadn't happened to bring up against an
old stump he would certainly have tumbled into the stream.

Though Solomon couldn't see, he knew that he was in danger. So he lay on
his back on the ground and carefully tore his new coat into strings and
ribbons.

At last he was free. And he rose to his feet feeling very sheepish, for he
knew that Mr. Frog had played a sly trick on him.

"Nevermind!" said Solomon Owl, as he flew way. "I'll come back to-morrow
and ask Mr. Frog to make me a waistcoat and trousers. And then----" He did
not finish what he was saying. But there is no doubt that whatever it was,
it could not have been very pleasant for Mr. Frog.

Just as he had planned, Solomon Owl returned to the brook the next day.
And he was both surprised and disappointed at what he found.

The door of Mr. Frog's tailor's shop was shut and locked. And on it there
was a sign, which said:

TO LET

"He's moved away!" cried Solomon Owl. And he went off feeling that he had
been cheated out of a good dinner--to say nothing of a new waistcoat--and
new trousers, too.

He had not been gone long when the door opened. And Mr. Frog leaped nimbly
outside. He took the sign off the door; and sitting down cross-legged upon
the bank, he began to sew upon Jasper Jay's new blue suit, while his face
wore a wider smile than ever.

He had suddenly decided not to let his shop, after all.





VI
SOLOMON NEEDS A CHANGE


For some time Solomon Owl had known that a queer feeling was coming over
him. And he could not think what it meant. He noticed, too, that his
appetite was leaving him. Nothing seemed to taste good any more.

So at last, one fine fall evening he went to see Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who
was an herb doctor; for he had begun to worry about his health.

"It's lucky you came to-day," said Aunt Polly. "Because to-night I'm going
to begin my winter's nap. And you couldn't have seen me again till
spring--unless you happened to come here on ground-hog day, next
February.... What appears to be your trouble?" she inquired.

"It's my appetite, partly," Solomon Owl said. "Nothing tastes as it did
when I was a youngster. And I keep longing for something, though what it
is I can't just tell."

Aunt Polly Woodchuck nodded her head wisely.

"What have you been eating lately?" she asked.

Solomon Owl replied that he hadn't eaten anything but mice since the
leaves began to turn.

"H-m--the leaves are nearly all off the trees now," the old lady remarked.
"How many mice have you eaten in that time?"

Solomon said that as nearly as he could remember he had eaten
twenty-seven--or a hundred and twenty-seven. He couldn't say which--but one
of those numbers was correct.

Aunt Polly Woodchuck threw up her hands.

"Sakes alive!" she cried. "It's no wonder you don't feel well! What you
need is a change of food. And it's lucky you came to me now. If you'd gone
on like that much longer I'd hate to say what might have happened to you.
You'd have had dyspepsia, or some other sort of misery in your stomach."

"What shall I do?" asked Solomon Owl. "Insects are scarce at this season
of the year. Of course, there are frogs--but I don't seem to care for them.
And there are fish--but they're not easy to get, for they don't come out of
the water and sit on the bank, as the frogs do."

"How about pullets?" Aunt Polly inquired.

At that Solomon Owl let out a long row of hoots, because he was pleased.

"The very thing!" he cried. "That's what I've been wanting all this time.
And I never guessed it.... I'll pay you for your advice the next time I
see you," he told Aunt Polly. And Solomon Owl hurried away before she
could stop him. Since he had no intention of visiting her on ground-hog
day, he knew it would be spring before he saw Aunt Polly Woodchuck again.

The old lady scolded a bit. And it did not make her feel any pleasanter to
hear Solomon's mocking laughter, which grew fainter and fainter as he left
the pasture behind him. Then she went inside her house, for she was fast
growing sleepy. And she wanted to set things to rights before she began
her long winter's nap.

Meanwhile, Solomon Owl roamed restlessly through the woods. There was only
one place in the neighborhood where he could get a pullet. That was at
Farmer Green's chicken house. And for some reason he did not care to visit
the farm buildings until it grew darker.

So he amused himself by making the woods echo with his strange cry,
"_Whoo-whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo, to-whoo-ah!_" And now and then he threw in a
few "_wha-whas_," just for extra measure.

Many of the forest folk who heard him remarked that Solomon Owl seemed to
be in extra fine spirits.

"Probably it's the hunter's moon that pleases him!" Jimmy Rabbit remarked
to a friend of his. "I've always noticed that old Solomon makes more noise
on moonlight nights than at any other time."

The hunter's moon, big and yellow and round, was just rising over Blue
Mountain. But for once it was not the moon that made Solomon Owl so
talkative. He was in fine feather, so to speak, because he was hoping to
have a fat pullet for his supper. And as for the moon, he would have been
just as pleased had there been none at all that night. For Solomon Owl
never cared to be seen when he visited Farmer Green's chicken house.





VII
THE BLAZING EYES


It was some three hours after sunset when Solomon Owl at last reached
Farmer Green's place. All was quiet in the chicken house because the hens
and roosters and their families had long since gone to roost. And except
for a light that shone through a window, the farmhouse showed not a sign
of life.

Everything was as Solomon Owl wished it--or so he thought, at least, as he
alighted in a tree in the yard to look about him. He wanted no one to
interrupt him when he should go nosing around the chicken house, to find
an opening.

To his annoyance, he had not sat long in the tree when the wood-shed door
opened. And Solomon stared in amazement at the strange sight he saw.

A great head appeared, with eyes and mouth--yes! and nose, too--all a
glaring flame color. Solomon had never seen such a horrible face on man or
bird or beast. But he was sure it was a man, for he heard a laugh that was
not to be mistaken for either a beast's or a bird's. And the worst of it
was, those blazing eyes were turned squarely toward Farmer Green's chicken
house!

Solomon Owl was too wary to go for his fat pullet just then. He decided
that he would wait quietly in the tree for a time, hoping that the man
would go away.

While Solomon watched him the stranger neither moved nor spoke. And, of
course, Solomon Owl was growing hungrier every minute. So at last he felt
that he simply _must_ say something.

"Who-who-who-are-you?" he called out from his tree.

But the strange man did not answer. He did not even turn his head.

"He must be some city person," Solomon Owl said to himself. "He thinks
he's too good to speak to a countryman like me."

Then Solomon sat up and listened. He heard a scratching sound. And soon he
saw a plump figure crawl right up into his tree-top.

It was Fatty Coon!

"What are you doing here?" Solomon Owl asked in a low voice, which was not
any too pleasant.

"I'm out for an airing," Fatty answered. "Beautiful night--isn't it?"

But Solomon Owl was not interested in the weather. "I don't suppose you've
come down here to get a chicken, have you?" he inquired.

Fatty Coon seemed greatly surprised at the question.

"Why--no!" he exclaimed. "But now that you speak of it, it reminds me that
Farmer Green's saving a pullet for me. He was heard to say not long ago
that he would like to catch me taking one of his hens. So he must have one
for me. And I don't want to disappoint him."

At first Solomon Owl didn't know what answer to make. But at last he
turned his head toward Fatty.

"Why don't you go and get your pullet now?" he asked.

"There's that man down below, with the glaring eyes--" said Fatty Coon.
"I've been waiting around here for quite a long time and he hasn't looked
away from the chicken house even once.... Do you know him?"

"No! And I don't want to!" said Solomon Owl.

"S-sh!" Fatty Coon held up a warning hand. "Who's that?" he asked, peering
down at a dark object at the foot of their tree.

Then both he and Solomon saw that it was Tommy Fox, sitting on his
haunches and staring at the big head, with its blazing eyes and nose and
mouth.

"Not looking for chickens, I suppose?" Solomon Owl called in a low tone,
which was hardly more than a whisper.

But Tommy Fox's sharp ears heard him easily. And he looked up, licking his
chops as if he were very hungry indeed. And all the while the stranger
continued to stare straight at the chicken house, as if he did not intend
to let anybody go

prowling about that long, low building to steal any of Farmer Green's
poultry.

It was no wonder that the three chicken-lovers (two in the tree and one
beneath it) hesitated. If the queer man had only spoken they might not
have been so timid. But he said never a word.





VIII
WATCHING THE CHICKENS


Solomon Owl and Fatty Coon couldn't help laughing at what Tommy Fox said
to them, as they sat in their tree near the farmhouse, looking down at him
in the moonlight.

"I'm here to watch Farmer Green's chickens for him--" said he--"to see that
no rat--or anybody else--runs away with a pullet."

"Farmer Green has someone else watching for him to-night," said Solomon
Owl, when he had stopped laughing. "There's that strange man! You can see
how he keeps his glaring eyes fixed on the chicken house. And unless I'm
mistaken, he's on the lookout for _you_."

"No such thing!" Tommy Fox snapped. And he looked up at Solomon as if he
wished that he could climb the tree.

"Here comes somebody else!" Fatty Coon exclaimed suddenly. His keen eyes
had caught sight of Jimmy Rabbit, hopping along on his way to the
vegetable garden, to see if he couldn't find a stray cabbage or a turnip.

Solomon Owl called to him. Whereupon, Jimmy Rabbit promptly sat up and
looked at the odd trio. If it hadn't been for Tommy Fox he would have
drawn nearer.

"Do you know that stranger?" Solomon Owl asked him, pointing out the
horrible head to Jimmy.

"I haven't the pleasure," said Jimmy Rabbit, after he had taken a good
look.

"Well," said Solomon, "won't you kindly speak to him; and ask him to go
away?"

"Certainly!" answered Jimmy Rabbit, who always tried to be obliging.

"I hope the stranger won't eat him," remarked Tommy Fox, "because I hope
to do that some day, myself."

It was queer--but Jimmy Rabbit was the only one of the four that wasn't
afraid of those glaring features. He hopped straight up to the big round
head, which was just a bit higher than one of the fence posts, against
which the stranger seemed to be leaning. And after a moment or two Jimmy
Rabbit called to Solomon and Fatty and Tommy Fox:

"He won't go away! He's going to stay right where he is!"

"Come here a minute!" said Tommy.

Jimmy Rabbit shook his head.

"You come over here!" he answered. And he did not stir from the side of
the stranger. He knew very well that Tommy Fox was afraid of the man with
the head with the glaring eyes.

As for Tommy Fox, he did not even reply--that is, to Jimmy Rabbit. But he
spoke his mind freely enough to his two friends in the tree.

"It seems to me one of you ought to do something," said he. "We'll eat no
pullets to-night if we can't get rid of this meddlesome stranger."

Fatty Coon quite agreed with him.

"The one who was here first is the one to act!" Fatty declared. "That's
_you_!" he told Solomon Owl.

So Solomon Owl felt most uncomfortable.

"I don't know what I can do," he said. "I spoke to the stranger--asked him
who he was. And he wouldn't answer me."

"Can't you frighten him away?" Tommy Fox inquired. "Fly right over his
head and give him a blow with your wing as you pass!"

Solomon Owl coughed. He was embarrassed, to say the least.

"He's afraid!" Fatty Coon cried. And both he and Tommy Fox kept repeating,
over and over again, "He's afraid! He's afraid! He's afraid!"

It was really more than Solomon Owl could stand.

"I'm not!" he retorted angrily. "Watch me and you'll see!" And without
another word he darted out of the tree and swooped down upon the stranger,
just brushing the top of his head. Solomon Owl knew at once that he had
knocked something off the top of that dreadful head--something that fell to
the ground and made Jimmy Rabbit jump nervously.

Then Solomon returned to his perch in the tree.

"He hasn't moved," he said. "But I knocked off his hat."

"You took off the top of his head!" cried Fatty Coon in great excitement.
"Look! The inside of his head is afire."

And peering down from the tree-top, Solomon Owl saw that Fatty Coon had
told the truth.





IX
HALLOWE'EN


Solomon Owl was afraid of fire. And when he looked down from his perch in
the tree and saw, through the hole in the stranger's crown, that all was
aglow inside his big, round head, Solomon couldn't help voicing his
horror. He "_whoo-whooed_" so loudly that Tommy Fox, at the foot of the
tree, asked him what on earth was the matter.

"His head's all afire!" Solomon Owl told him. "That's what makes his eyes
glare so. And that's why the fire shines through his mouth and his nose,
too. It's no wonder he didn't answer my question--for, of course, his
tongue must certainly be burned to a cinder."

"Then it ought to be safe for anybody to enter the chicken house," Tommy
Fox observed. "What could the stranger do, when he's in such a fix?"

"He could set the chicken house afire, if he followed you inside," replied
Solomon Owl wisely. "And I, for one, am not going near the pullets
to-night."

"Nor I!" Fatty Coon echoed. "I'm going straight to the cornfield. The corn
is still standing there in shocks; and I ought to find enough ears to make
a good meal."

But Solomon Owl and Tommy Fox were not interested in corn. They never ate
it. And so it is not surprising that they should be greatly disappointed.
After a person has his mouth all made up for chicken it is hard to think
of anything that would taste even half as good.

"It's queer he doesn't go and hold his head under the pump," said Solomon
Owl. "That's what I should do, if I were he."

"Jimmy Rabbit had better not go too near him, or he'll get singed," said
Tommy Fox, anxiously. "I don't want anything to happen to _him_."

"Jimmy Rabbit is very careless," Solomon declared. "I don't see what he's
thinking of--going so near a fire! It makes me altogether too nervous to
stay here. And I'm going away at once."

Tommy Fox said that he felt the same way. And the moment Fatty Coon, with
his sharp claws, started to crawl down the tree on his way to the
cornfield, Tommy Fox hurried off without even stopping to say good-bye.

"_Haw-haw-haw-hoo_!" laughed Solomon Owl. "Tommy Fox is afraid of you!" he
told Fatty Coon.

But Fatty didn't seem to hear him. He was thinking only of the supper of
corn that he was going to have.

"Better come away!" Solomon Owl called to Jimmy Rabbit, turning his head
toward the fence where Jimmy had been lingering near the hot-headed
stranger.

But Jimmy Rabbit didn't answer him, either. He was no longer there. The
moment he had seen Tommy Fox bounding off across the meadow Jimmy had
started at once for Farmer Green's vegetable garden.

So Solomon Owl was the last to leave.

"There's really nothing else I can do," he remarked to himself. "I don't
know what Aunt Polly Woodchuck would say if she knew that I didn't follow
her advice to-night and eat a pullet for my supper.... But I've tried my
best.... And that's all anybody can do."

Solomon Owl was upset all the rest of that night. And just before daybreak
he visited the farmyard again, to see whether the strange man with the
flaring head still watched the chicken house. And Solomon found that he
had vanished.

So Solomon Owl alighted on the fence. There was nothing there except a
hollowed-out pumpkin, with a few holes cut in it, which someone had left
on one of the fence-posts.

"Good!" said he. "Maybe I can get my pullet after all!" He turned to fly
to the chicken house. But just then the woodshed door opened again. And
Farmer Green stepped outside, with a lantern in his hand. He was going to
the barn to milk the cows. But Solomon Owl did not wait to learn anything
more.

He hurried away to his house among the hemlocks. And having quickly
settled himself for a good nap, he was soon fast asleep.

That was how Johnnie Green's jack-o'-lantern kept Tommy Fox and Fatty Coon
and Solomon Owl from taking any chickens on Hallowe'en.





X
A TROUBLESOME WISHBONE


Solomon Owl had pains--sharp pains--underneath his waistcoat. And not
knowing what else to do, he set off at once for Aunt Polly Woodchuck's
house under the hill, in the pasture, which he had not visited since the
previous fall. Luckily, he found the old lady at home. And quickly he told
her of his trouble.

"What have you been eating?" she inquired.

"I've followed your advice. I've been eating chickens," said he--"very
small chickens, because they were all I could get."

Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who was an herb doctor--and a good one--regarded him
through her spectacles.

"I'm afraid," said she, "you don't chew your food properly. Bolting one's
food is very harmful. It's as bad as not eating anything at all, almost."

Solomon Owl showed plainly that her remark surprised him.

"Why," he exclaimed, "I always swallow my food whole--when it isn't too
big!"

"Gracious me!" cried Aunt Polly, throwing up both her hands. "It's no
wonder you're ill. It's no wonder you have pains; and now I know exactly
what's the matter with you. You have a wishbone inside you. I can feel
it!" she told him, as she prodded him in the waistcoat.

"I wish you could get it out for me!" said Solomon with a look of
distress.

"All the wishing in the world won't help you," she answered, "unless we
can find some way of removing the wishbone so you can wish on that. Then
I'm sure you would feel better at once."

"This is strange," Solomon mused. "All my life I've been swallowing my
food without chewing it. And it has never given me any trouble before....
What shall I do?"

"Don't eat anything for a week," she directed. "And fly against
tree-trunks as hard as you can. Then come back here after seven days."

Solomon Owl went off in a most doleful frame of mind. It seemed to him
that he had never seen so many mice and frogs and chipmunks as he came
across during the following week. But he didn't dare catch a single one,
on account of what Aunt Polly Woodchuck had said.

His pains, however, grew less from day to day--at least, the pains that had
first troubled him. But he had others to take their place. Hunger pangs,
these were! And they were almost as bad as those that had sent him
hurrying to see Aunt Polly Woodchuck.

On the whole, Solomon passed a very unhappy week. Flying head foremost
into tree-trunks (as Aunt Polly had instructed him to do) gave him many
bumps and bruises. So he was glad when the time came for him to return to
her house in the pasture.

Solomon's neighbors had been so interested in watching him that they were
all sorry when he ceased his strange actions. Indeed, there was a rumor
that Solomon had become very angry with Farmer Green and that he was
trying to knock down some of Farmer Green's trees. Before the end of that
unpleasant week Solomon had often noticed as many as twenty-four of the
forest folk following him about, hoping to see a tree fall.

But they were all disappointed. However, they enjoyed the sight of Solomon
hurling himself against tree-trunks. And the louder he groaned, the more
people gathered around him.





XI
CURED AT LAST


"How do you feel now?" Aunt Polly Woodchuck asked Solomon Owl, when he had
come back to her house after a week's absence.

"No better!" he groaned. "I still have pains. But they seem to have moved
and scattered all over me."

"Good!" she exclaimed with a smile. "You _are_ much better, though you
didn't know it. The wishbone is broken. You broke it by flying against the
trees. And you ought not to have any more trouble. But let me examine
you!" she said, prodding him in the waistcoat once more.

"This is odd!" she continued a bit later. "I can feel the wishbone more
plainly than ever."

"That's my own wishbone!" Solomon cried indignantly. "I've grown so thin
through not eating that it's a wonder you can't feel my backbone, too."

Aunt Polly Woodchuck looked surprised.

"Perhaps you're right!" said she. "Not having a wishbone of my own, I
forgot that you had one."

A look of disgust came over Solomon Owl's face.

"You're a very poor doctor," he told her. "Here you've kept me from eating
for a whole week--and I don't believe it was necessary at all!"

"Well, you're better, aren't you?" she asked him.

"I shall be as soon as I have a good meal," replied Solomon Owl,
hopefully.

"You ought not to eat anything for another week," Aunt Polly told him
solemnly.

"Nonsense!" he cried.

"I'm a doctor; and I ought to know best," she insisted.

But Solomon Owl hooted rudely.

"I'll never come to you for advice any more," he declared. "I firmly
believe that my whole trouble was simply that I've been eating too
sparingly. And I shall take good care to see that it doesn't happen
again."

No one had ever spoken to Aunt Polly in quite that fashion--though old Mr.
Crow had complained one time that she had cured him _too quickly_. But she
did not lose her temper, in spite of Solomon's jeers.

"You'll be back here again the very next time you're ill," she remarked.
"And if you continue to swallow your food whole----"

But Solomon Owl did not even wait to hear what she said. He was so
impolite that he flew away while she was talking. And since it was then
almost dark, and a good time to look for field mice, he began his night's
hunting right there in Farmer Green's pasture.

By morning Solomon was so plump that Aunt Polly Woodchuck would have had a
good deal of trouble finding his wishbone. But since he did not visit her
again, she had no further chance to prod him in the waistcoat.

Afterward, Solomon heard a bit of gossip that annoyed him. A friend of his
reported that Aunt Polly Woodchuck was going about and telling everybody
how she had saved Solomon's life.

"Mice!" he exclaimed (he often said that when some would have said
"Rats!"). "There's not a word of truth in her claim. And if people in this
neighborhood keep on taking her advice and her catnip tea they're going to
be sorry some day. For they'll be really ill the first thing they know.
And then what will they do?"





XII
BENJAMIN BAT


Solomon Owl was by no means the only night-prowler in Pleasant Valley. He
had neighbors that chose to sleep in the daytime, so they might roam
through the woods and fields after dark. One of these was Benjamin Bat.
And furthermore, he was the color of night itself.

Now, Benjamin Bat was an odd chap. When he was still he liked to hang by
his feet, upside down. And when he was flying he sailed about in a zigzag,
helter-skelter fashion. He went in so many different directions, turning
this way and that, one could never tell where he was going. One might say
that his life was just one continual dodge--when he wasn't resting with his
heels where his head ought to be.

A good many of Benjamin Bat's friends said he certainly must be crazy,
because he didn't do as they did. But that never made the slightest
difference in Benjamin Bat's habits. He continued to zigzag through
life--and hang by his heels--just the same. Perhaps he thought that all
other people were crazy because they didn't do likewise.

Benjamin often dodged across Solomon Owl's path, when Solomon was hunting
for field mice. And since Benjamin was the least bit like a mouse
himself--except for his wings--there was a time, once, when Solomon tried to
catch him.

But Solomon Owl soon found that chasing Benjamin Bat made him dizzy. If
Benjamin hadn't been used to hanging head downward, maybe he would have
been dizzy, too.

Though the two often saw each other, Benjamin Bat never seemed to care to
stop for a chat with Solomon Owl. One night, however, Benjamin actually
called to Solomon and asked his advice. He was in trouble. And he knew
that Solomon Owl was supposed by some to be the wisest old fellow for
miles around.

It was almost morning. And Solomon Owl was hurrying home, because a
terrible storm had arisen. The lightning was flashing, and peals of
thunder crashed through the woods. Big drops of rain were already
pattering down. But Solomon Owl did not care, for he had almost reached
his house in the hollow hemlock near the foot of Blue Mountain.

It was different with Benjamin Bat. That night he had strayed a long
distance from his home in Cedar Swamp. And he didn't know what to do. "I
want to get under cover, somewhere," he told Solomon Owl. "You don't know
of a good place near-by, do you, where I can get out of the storm and take
a nap?"

"Why, yes!" answered Solomon Owl. "Come right along to my house and spend
the day with me!"

But Benjamin Bat did not like the suggestion at all.

"I'm afraid I might crowd, you," he said. He was thinking of the time when
Solomon Owl had chased him. And sleeping in Solomon Owl's house seemed far
from a safe thing to do.

                            [_Illustration 2_]

                     Benjamin Asked Solomon's Advice


Solomon was wise enough to guess what was going on inside Benjamin's head.

"Come along!" he said. "We'll both be asleep before we know it. I'm sorry
I can't offer you something to eat. But I haven't a morsel of food in my
house. No doubt, though, you've just had a good meal. _I_ ate seven mice
to-night. And I certainly couldn't eat anything more."

When Solomon Owl told him that, Benjamin Bat thought perhaps there was no
danger, after all. And since the rain was falling harder and harder every
moment, he thanked Solomon and said he would be glad to accent his
invitation.

"Follow me, then!" said Solomon Owl. And he led the way to his home in the
hemlock.

For once, Benjamin Bat flew in a fairly straight line, though he did a
little dodging, because he couldn't help it.

There was more room inside Solomon's house than Benjamin Bat had supposed.
While Benjamin was looking about and telling Solomon that he had a fine
home, his host quickly made a bed of leaves in one corner of the
room--there was only one room, of course.

"That's for you!" said Solomon Owl. "I always sleep on the other side of
the house." And without waiting even to make sure that his guest was
comfortable, Solomon Owl lay down and began to snore--for he was very
sleepy.

It was so cozy there that Benjamin Bat was glad, already, that he had
accepted Solomon's invitation.





XIII
THE LUCKY GUEST


In the middle of the day Solomon Owl happened to awake. He was sorry that
he hadn't slept until sunset, because he was very hungry. Knowing that it
was light outside his hollow tree, he didn't want to leave home to find
something to eat.

Then, suddenly, he remembered that he had brought Benjamin Bat to his
house early that morning, so Benjamin might escape the storm.... Why not
eat Benjamin Bat?

As soon as the thought occurred to him, Solomon Owl liked it. And he moved
stealthily over to the bed of leaves he had made for his guest just before
daybreak.

But Benjamin Bat was not there. Though Solomon looked in every nook and
cranny of his one-room house, he did not find him.

"He must have left as soon as it stopped raining," said Solomon Owl to
himself. "He might at least have waited to thank me for giving him a day's
lodging. It's the last time I'll ever bring any worthless vagabond into my
house. And I ought to have known better than to have anything to do with a
crazy person like Benjamin Bat."

Anybody can see that Solomon Owl was displeased. But it was not at all
astonishing, if one stops to remember how hungry he was, and that he had
expected to enjoy a good meal without the trouble of going away from home
to get it.

Solomon Owl went to the door of his house and looked out. The sun was
shining so brightly that after blinking in his doorway for a few minutes
he decided that he would go to bed again and try to sleep until dusk. He
never liked bright days. "They're so dismal!" he used to say. "Give me a
good, dark night and I'm happy, for there's nothing more cheering than
gloom."

In spite of the pangs of hunger that gnawed inside him, Solomon at last
succeeded in falling asleep once more. And he dreamed that he chased
Benjamin Bat three times around Blue Mountain, and then three times back
again, in the opposite direction. But he never could catch him, because
Benjamin Bat simply wouldn't fly straight. His zigzag course was so
confusing that even in his dream Solomon Owl grew dizzy.

Now, Benjamin Bat was in Solomon's house all the time. And the reason why
Solomon Owl hadn't found him was a very simple one. It was merely that
Solomon hadn't looked in the right place.

Benjamin Bat was hidden--as you might say--where his hungry host never once
thought of looking for him. And being asleep all the while, Benjamin
didn't once move or make the slightest noise.

If he had snored, or sneezed, or rustled his wings, no doubt Solomon Owl
would have found him.

When Benjamin awakened, late in the afternoon, Solomon was still sleeping.
And Benjamin crept through the door and went out into the gathering
twilight, without arousing Solomon.

"I'll thank him the next time I meet him," Benjamin Bat decided. And he
staggered away through the air as if he did not quite know, himself, where
he was going. But, of course, that was only his queer way of flying.

When he told his friends where he had spent the day they were astonished.

"How did you ever dare do anything so dangerous as sleeping in Solomon
Owl's house?" they all asked him.

But Benjamin Bat only said, "Oh! There was nothing to be afraid of." And
he began to feel quite important.





XIV
HANGING BY THE HEELS


It was several nights before Solomon Owl and Benjamin Bat chanced to meet
again in the forest.

"Hullo!" said Solomon.

"Hullo!" said Benjamin Bat. "I'm glad to see you, because I want to thank
you for letting me spend the day in your house, so I wouldn't have to stay
out in the storm."

"You must be a light sleeper," Solomon observed. (He did not tell Benjamin
that he was welcome!)

"What makes you think that?" Benjamin Bat inquired.

"Why--you left my house before noon," Solomon told him.

"Oh, no!" said Benjamin. "I slept soundly until sunset. When I came away
the crickets were chirping. And I was surprised that you hadn't waked up
yourself."

"You were gone before midday," Solomon Owl insisted. And they had
something very like a dispute, while Solomon Owl sat in one tree and
Benjamin Bat hung head downward from another. "I ought to know," said
Solomon. "I was awake about noon; and I looked everywhere for you."

"What for?" asked Benjamin.

Naturally, Solomon didn't like to tell him that he had intended to eat
him. So he looked wise--and said nothing.

"You didn't look on the ceiling, did you?" Benjamin Bat inquired.

"No, indeed!" Solomon Owl exclaimed.

"Well, that's where I was, hanging by my feet," Benjamin Bat informed him.

Solomon Owl certainly was surprised to hear that.

"The idea!" he cried. "You're a queer one! I never once thought of looking
_on the ceiling_ for a _luncheon_!" He was so astonished that he spoke
before he thought how oddly his remark would sound to another.

When he heard what Solomon Owl said, Benjamin Bat knew at once that
Solomon had meant to eat him. And he was so frightened that he dropped
from the limb to which he was clinging and flew off as fast as he could
go. For once in his life he flew in a straight line, with no zigzags at
all, he was in such a hurry to get away from Solomon Owl, who--for all he
knew--might still be very hungry.

But Solomon Owl had caught so many mice that night that he didn't feel
like chasing anybody. So he sat motionless in the tree, merely turning his
head to watch Benjamin sailing away through the dusky woods. He noticed
that Benjamin didn't dodge at all--except when there was a tree in his way.
And he wondered what the reason was.

"Perhaps he's not so crazy as I supposed," said Solomon Owl to himself.
And ever afterward, when he happened to awake and feel hungry, Solomon Owl
used to look up at the ceiling above him and wish that Benjamin Bat was
there.

But Benjamin Bat never cared to have anything more to do with Solomon Owl.

He said he had a good reason for avoiding him.

And ever afterward he passed for a very brave person among his friends.
They often pointed him out to strangers, saying, "There's Benjamin Bat!
_He_ doesn't know what fear is. Why, once he even spent a whole day asleep
in Solomon Owl's house! And if you don't think _that_ was a bold thing to
do, then I guess you don't know Solomon Owl."





XV
DISPUTES SETTLED


Solomon Owl looked so wise that many of his neighbors fell into the habit
of going to him for advice. If two of the forest folk chanced to have a
dispute which they could not settle between them they frequently visited
Solomon and asked him to decide which was in the right. And in the course
of time Solomon became known far and wide for his ability to patch up a
quarrel.

At last Jimmy Rabbit stopped Solomon Owl one night and suggested that he
hang a sign outside his house, so that there shouldn't be anybody in the
whole valley that wouldn't know what to do in case he found himself in an
argument.

Solomon decided on the spot that Jimmy Rabbit's idea was a good one. So he
hurried home and before morning he had his sign made, and put out where
everyone could see it. It looked like this:

DISPUTES SETTLED WITHIN

There was only one objection to the sign. As soon as Jimmy Rabbit saw it
he told Solomon that it should have said:

DISPUTES SETTLED WITHOUT

"Without what?" Solomon Owl inquired.

"Why, without going into your house!" said Jimmy Rabbit. "I can't climb a
tree, you know. And neither can Tommy Fox. We might have a dispute
to-night; and how could you ever settle it?"

"Oh, I shall be willing to step outside," Solomon told him. And he refused
to change the sign, declaring that he liked it just as it was.

Now, there was only one trouble with Solomon Owl's settling of disputes.
Many of the forest folk wanted to see him in the daytime. And _night_ was
the only time _he_ was willing to see them. But he heard so many
objections to that arrangement that in the end Solomon agreed to meet
people at dusk and at dawn, when it was neither very dark nor very light.
On the whole he found that way very satisfactory, because there was just
enough light at dusk and at dawn to make him blink. And when Solomon
blinked he looked even wiser than ever.

Well, the first disputing pair that came to Solomon's tree after he hung
out his new sign were old Mr. Crow and Jasper Jay. They reached the
hemlock grove soon after sunset and squalled loudly for Solomon. "Hurry!"
Mr. Crow cried, as soon as Solomon Owl stepped outside his door. "It will
be dark before we know it; and it's almost our bedtime."

"What's your difficulty?" Solomon asked them.

Mr. Crow looked at Jasper Jay. And then he looked at Solomon again.

"Maybe you won't like to hear it," he said. And he winked at Jasper. "But
you've put out this sign--so we've come here."

"You've done just right!" exclaimed Solomon Owl. "And as for my not liking
to hear the trouble, it's your dispute and not mine. So I don't see how it
concerns me--except to settle it."

"Very Well," Mr. Crow answered. "The dispute, then, is this: Jasper says
that in spite of your looking so wise, you're really the stupidest person
in Pleasant Valley."

"He does, eh?" cried Solomon Owl, while Jasper Jay laughed loudly. "And
you, of course, do not agree with him," Solomon continued.

"I do not!" Mr. Crow declared.

"Good!" said Solomon, nodding his head approvingly.

"No, I do not agree with Jasper Jay," Mr. Crow said. "I claim that there's
one other person more stupid than you are--and that's Fatty Coon."

Well, Solomon Owl certainly was displeased. And it didn't make him feel
any happier to hear Jasper Jay's boisterous shouts, or the hoarse
"_haw-haw_" of old Mr. Crow.

"I hope you can decide which one of us is right," Mr. Crow ventured.

"I am, of course!" cried Jasper Jay.

"You're not!" Mr. Crow shouted. And to Solomon Owl he said, "We've been
disputing like this all day long."

Solomon Owl didn't know what to say. If he announced that Jasper was right
it would be the same as admitting that he was the stupidest person in the
whole neighborhood. And if he said that old Mr. Crow's opinion was correct
he would not be much better off. Naturally he didn't want to tell either
of them that he was right.

"I'll have to think about this," Solomon observed at last.

"We don't want to wait," said Mr. Crow. "If we keep on disputing we're
likely to have a fight."

Now, Solomon Owl hoped that they would have a fight. So he was determined
to keep them waiting for his decision.

"Come back to-morrow at this time," he said.





XVI
NINE FIGHTS


The next evening, just at dusk, Jasper Jay and old Mr. Crow returned to
Solomon Owl's house, looking much bedraggled. One of Mr. Crow's eyes was
almost closed; and Jasper Jay's crest seemed to have been torn half off
his head.

"What's the matter?" asked Solomon, as soon as he saw them.

"We've had three fights," said Jasper Jay.

"Yes! And I've whipped him each time!" cried Mr. Crow. "So I must be in
the right. And you'd better decide our dispute in my favor at once."

But Solomon Owl was still in no hurry.

"It's a difficult question to settle,' said he. 'I don't want to make any
mistake. So I shall have to ask you to come back here to-morrow at this
time."

Both Jasper and Mr. Crow seemed disappointed. Although Mr. Crow had won
each fight, he was very weary, for he was older than Jasper Jay.

As they went off, Solomon Owl began to feel much pleased with himself.

The following evening, at sunset, old Mr. Crow and Jasper Jay visited
Solomon Owl once more. And they looked more battered than ever.

"We've had three more fights," said Mr. Crow.

"Yes! And I won each time!" Jasper Jay piped up. "So I must be in the
right. And you'd better decide in my favor without any further delay."

Solomon Owl thought deeply for some time.

"Maybe I ought to wait until to-morrow----" he began.

But his callers both shouted "No!"

"Well," said Solomon, "Mr. Crow has won three fights; and Jasper Jay has
won three. So it is certain that each must be in the wrong."

But that announcement did not satisfy Jasper and Mr. Crow. And they left
the hemlock grove, disputing more loudly than ever.

And the next day, at dusk, they came back again.

"We've had three more fights; and I won!" they both cried at the same
time.

"That proves my claim," said Solomon Owl. "You're both wrong."

They whispered together for a few minutes.

"We don't like your way of settling disputes," Mr. Crow remarked shortly.
"But we've decided to stop quarreling."

"Good!" said Solomon Owl. "That shows that you are sensible."

"Yes!" replied Jasper. "We've decided to stop quarreling and fight _you_!"

"Wait a moment!" said Solomon Owl hastily, as they drew nearer. "I don't
want my new suit spoiled." And he ducked inside the hollow tree before
they could reach him.

Jasper and Mr. Crow waited and waited. But Solomon Owl did not reappear.
And since his two visitors did not dare follow him into the dark cavern
where he lived, they decided at last that they would go home--and get into
bed.

"Let's take away his sign, anyhow!" Jasper Jay suggested.

So they pulled down Solomon's sign, which said "Disputes Settled Within,"
and they carried it off with them and hid it in some bushes.

That same night Solomon Owl hunted for it for a long time. But he never
found it.

He decided not to hang out another, for he saw that settling disputes was
a dangerous business.





XVII
COUSIN SIMON SCREECHER


Solomon Owl had a small cousin named Simon Screecher. He was unlike
Solomon in some respects, because he always wore ear-tufts, and his eyes
were yellow instead of black. But in some other ways he was no different
from Solomon Owl, for he was a noisy chap and dearly loved mice--to eat.

It happened that the two met in the woods one fine fall evening; and they
agreed to go hunting mice together.

Now, being so much smaller than Solomon, Simon Screecher was all the
spryer. In fact, he was so active that he could catch mice faster than
Solomon Owl could capture them. And they had not hunted long before
Solomon discovered that Simon had succeeded in disposing of six mice to
his three.

That discovery did not please Solomon at all.

"Look here!" he said. "Since we are hunting together it's only fair to
divide what we catch, half and half."

Simon Screecher hesitated. But after reflecting that his cousin was very
big and very strong, he agreed to Solomon's suggestion.

So they resumed their hunting. And every time one of them caught two mice,
he gave one mouse to his cousin.

Still Solomon Owl was not satisfied.

"Wait a moment!" Solomon called to Simon Screecher. "It has just occurred
to me that I am more than twice as big as you are; so I ought to have
twice as many mice as you."

This time Simon Screecher hesitated longer. He did not like the second
suggestion even as well as the first. And in the end he said as much, too.

But Solomon Owl insisted that it was only fair.

"You surely ought to be glad to please your own cousin," he told Simon.

"It's not that," said Simon Screecher. "It seems to me that since I'm not
half your size, I ought to have twice as many mice to eat, so I'll grow
bigger."

Well, Solomon Owl hadn't thought of that. He was puzzled to know what to
say. And he wanted time in which to ponder.

"I'll think over what you say," he told Simon Screecher. "And now, since
it's almost dawn, we'd better not hunt any longer to-night. But I'll meet
you again at dusk if you'll come to my house."

"Very well, Cousin Solomon!" Simon answered. "I'm sure that after you've
had a good sleep you'll be ready to agree with me."

"If that's the case, I may not take any nap at all," Solomon replied.

"Oh! You ought to have your rest!" his cousin exclaimed. Simon knew that
if Solomon went all day without sleep he would be frightfully peevish by
nightfall.

"Well--I'll try to get forty winks," Solomon promised. "But I don't believe
I can get more than that, because I have so much on my mind that I'm sure
to be wakeful."

Simon Screecher was somewhat worried as they parted. His wailing,
tremulous whistle, which floated through the shadowy woods, showed that he
was far from happy.





XVIII
XVIII - A COUSINLY QUARREL


It proved to be just as Solomon Owl had told his cousin, Simon Screecher.
Solomon had so much on his mind that he had no sooner fallen asleep than
he awoke again, to study over the question that perplexed him. He
certainly did not want Simon to have twice as many mice as he. But Simon's
argument was a good one. He had said that since Solomon was more than
twice his size, it was proper that he should have a chance to grow. And
everybody knew--Solomon reflected--everybody knew that _eating_ made one
larger.

The longer Solomon pondered, the farther he seemed from any answer that he
liked. And he had begun to fear that he would not succeed in getting more
than thirty-nine winks all day--instead of forty--when all at once an idea
came into his mind.

Solomon knew right away that he had nothing more to worry about. He
dropped into a sound sleep with a pleasant smile upon his usually solemn
face. And when he opened his eyes again it was time for Simon Screecher to
arrive.

Yes! Solomon could hear his cousin's whistle even then. So he hurried to
his door; and there was Simon, sitting on a limb of the big hemlock
waiting for him!

"It's all right!" said Solomon to his cousin. "I agree to your suggestion.
We'll hunt together again to-night; and if you will give me one-third of
all the mice you catch, I promise to give you two-thirds of all the mice
that I capture."

"Good!" said Simon Screecher. And he looked vastly relieved. "Just hoot
when you have any mice for me!"

"Whistle when you have any for me!" Solomon Owl replied.

And at that they started out for their night's sport. It was not long
before Simon Screecher's well known whistle brought Solomon hurrying to
him. Simon already had three mice, one of which he gave to Solomon,
according to their agreement.

That same thing happened several times; until at last Simon Screecher
began to grumble.

"What's the matter?" he asked his cousin. "You are not hooting, as you
promised you would."

"But I haven't caught any mice yet!" Solomon Owl replied.

                            [_Illustration 3_]

                      "It's All Right," Said Solomon


Again and again and again Simon's call summoned Solomon. But not once did
Solomon's summon Simon. And all the time Simon Screecher grew more
discontented. Toward the end of the night he declared flatly that he
wasn't going to hunt any more with his cousin.

"I've done exactly as I agreed!" Solomon Owl protested.

"You're altogether too slow and clumsy," Simon Screecher told him bluntly.
"If I'm going to hunt with anybody after this I'm going to choose someone
that's as spry as I am. There's no sense in my working for you. Here I've
toiled all night long and I'm still hungry, for I've given you a third of
my food."

They parted then--and none too pleasantly.

In Simon's whistle, as he flew away toward his home, there was
unmistakable anger. But Solomon Owl's answering hoots--while they were not
exactly sweet--seemed to carry more than a hint of laughter.

One would naturally think that Solomon might have been even hungrier than
his small cousin. But it was not so. He had had more to eat than usual;
for he had been very busy catching locusts and katydids--and frogs, too.
Solomon Owl had not tried to catch a single mouse that night.

You know now the idea that had come to him while he was lying awake in his
house during the daytime. He had made up his mind that he would not hunt
for _mice_. And since he had not promised Simon to give him anything else,
there was no reason why he should not eat all the frogs and katydids and
locusts that he could find.

Perhaps it was not surprising that Simon Screecher never guessed the
truth. But he seemed to know that there was something queer about that
night's hunting, for he never came to Solomon Owl's house again.





XIX
THE SLEET STORM


It was winter. And for several days a strong south wind had swept up
Pleasant Valley. That--as Solomon Owl knew very well--that meant a thaw was
coming. He was not sorry, because the weather had been bitterly cold.

Well, the thaw came. And the weather grew so warm that Solomon Owl could
stay out all night without once feeling chilled. He found the change so
agreeable that he strayed further from home than was his custom. Indeed,
he was far away on the other side of Blue Mountain at midnight, when it
began to rain.

Now, that was not quite so pleasant. But still Solomon did not mind
greatly. It was not until later that he began to feel alarmed, when he
noticed that flying did not seem so easy as usual.

Solomon had grown heavy all at once--and goodness knows it was not because
he had overeaten, for food was scarce at that season of the year.
Moreover, Solomon's wings were strangely stiff. When he moved them they
_crackled_.

"It must be my joints," he said to himself. "I'm afraid this wetting has
given me rheumatism." So he started home at once--though it was only
midnight. But the further he went, the worse he felt--and the harder it was
to fly.

"I'll have to rest a while," he said to himself at last. So he alighted on
a limb; for he was more tired than he had ever been in all his life.

But he soon felt so much better that he was ready to start on again. And
then, to his dismay, Solomon Owl found that he could hardly stir. The
moment he left his perch he floundered down upon the ground. And though he
tried his hardest, he couldn't reach the tree again.

The rain was still beating down steadily. And Solomon began to think it a
bad night to be out. What was worse, the weather was fast turning cold.

"I'm afraid I'll have to stay in bed a week after this," he groaned. "If I
sit here long, as wet as I am, while the thaw turns into a _freeze_, I
shall certainly be ill."

Now, if it hadn't been for the rain, Solomon Owl would have had no trouble
at all. Or if it hadn't been for the freezing cold he would have been in
no difficulty. Though he didn't know it, his trouble was simply this: The
rain froze upon him as

fast as it fell, covering him with a coating of ice. It was no wonder that
he felt strangely heavy--no wonder that he couldn't fly.

There he crouched on the ground, while the rain and sleet beat upon him.
And the only comforting thought that entered his head was that on so
stormy a night Tommy Fox and Fatty Coon would be snug and warm in their
beds. _They_ wouldn't go out in such weather.

And Solomon Owl wished that he, too, had stayed at home that night.

From midnight until almost dawn Solomon Owl sat there. Now and then he
tried to fly. But it was no use. He could scarcely raise himself off the
ground.

At last he decided he would have to _walk_ home. Fortunately, a hard crust
covered the soft snow. So Solomon started off on his long journey.

Flying, Solomon could have covered the distance in a few minutes. But he
was a slow walker. By the time he reached his home among the hemlocks the
sun was shining brightly--for the rain had stopped before daybreak.

Solomon wondered how he would ever succeed in reaching his doorway, high
up in the hollow tree. He gazed helplessly upward. And as he sat there
mournfully the bright sunshine melted the ice that bound his wings. After
a time he discovered that he could move freely once more. And then he rose
quickly in the air and in a twinkling he had disappeared into the darkness
of his home--that darkness which to him was always so pleasant.





XX
A PAIR OF RED-HEADS


In the woods there was hardly one of Solomon Owl's neighbors that couldn't
point out the big hemlock tree where he lived. And mischievous fellows
like Reddy Woodpecker sometimes annoyed Solomon a good deal by rapping
loudly on his door. When he thrust his head angrily out of his house and
blinked in the sunlight, his tormentors would skip away and laugh. They
laughed because they knew that they had awakened Solomon Owl. And they
dodged out of his reach because he was always ill-tempered when anybody
disturbed his rest in the daytime.

Solomon Owl did not mind so _very_ much so long as that trick was not
played on him too often. But after a time it became one of Reddy
Woodpecker's favorite sports. Not only once, but several times a day did
he go to the hemlock grove to hammer upon Solomon's hollow tree. And each
time that he brought Solomon Owl to his door Reddy Woodpecker laughed more
loudly than ever before.

Once Solomon forgot to take off his nightcap (though he wore it in the
daytime, it really was a nightcap). And Reddy Woodpecker was so amused
that he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What's the joke?" asked Solomon Owl in his deep, rumbling voice. He tried
to look very severe. But it is hard to look any way except funny with a
nightcap on one's head.

As luck had it, Jasper Jay came hurrying up just then. He had heard Reddy
Woodpecker's laughter. And if there was a joke he wanted to enjoy it, too.

Jasper Jay, alighting in a small hemlock near Reddy Woodpecker, asked the
same question that Solomon Owl had just put to his rude caller.

"What's the joke?" inquired Jasper Jay.

Reddy could not speak. He was rocking back and forth upon a limb, choking
and gasping for breath. But he managed to point to the big tree where
Solomon Owl lived.

And when Jasper looked, and saw Solomon's great, round, pale, questioning
face, all tied up in a red nightcap, he began to scream.

They were no ordinary screams--those shrieks of Jasper Jay's. That
blue-coated rascal was the noisiest of all the feathered folk in Pleasant
Valley. And now he fairly made the woods echo with his hoarse cries.

"This is the funniest sight I've ever seen!" Jasper Jay said at last, to
nobody in particular. "I declare, there's a pair of them!"

At that, Reddy Woodpecker suddenly stopped laughing.

"A pair of what?" he asked.

"A pair of red-heads, of course!" Jasper Jay replied. "You've a red
cap--and so has he!" Jasper pointed at Solomon Owl (a very rude thing to
do!).

Then two things happened all at once. Solomon Owl snatched off his red
night-cap--which he had quite forgotten. And Reddy Woodpecker dashed at
Jasper Jay. He couldn't pull off _his_ red cap, for it grew right on his
head.

"So that's what you're laughing at, is it?" he cried angrily. And then
nobody laughed any more--that is, nobody but Solomon Owl.

Solomon was so pleased by the fight that followed between Jasper Jay and
Reddy Woodpecker that his deep, rumbling laughter could be heard for half
an hour--even if it _was_ midday. "_Wha-wha! Whoo-ah!_" The sound reached
the ears of Farmer Green, who was just crossing a neighboring field, on
his way home to dinner.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed. "I wonder what's happened to that old owl!
Something must have tickled him--for I never heard an owl laugh in broad
daylight before."





XXI
AT HOME IN THE HAYSTACK


After what happened when he came to his door without remembering to take
off his red nightcap, Solomon Owl hoped that Reddy Woodpecker would stop
teasing him.

But it was not so. Having once viewed Solomon's red cap, Reddy Woodpecker
wanted to see it some more. So he came again and again and knocked on
Solomon's door.

Solomon Owl, however, remembered each time to remove his nightcap before
sticking his head out. And it might be said that neither of them was
exactly pleased. For Reddy Woodpecker was disappointed; and Solomon Owl
was angry.

Not a day passed that Reddy Woodpecker didn't disturb Solomon's rest at
least a dozen times. Perhaps if Solomon had just kept still inside his
house Reddy would have grown tired of bothering him. But Solomon Owl--for
all he looked so wise--never thought of that.

But he saw before a great while that he would have to make a change of
some sort--if he wanted to enjoy a good, quiet sleep again.

For a long time Solomon Owl pondered. It was a great puzzle--to know just
how to outwit Reddy Woodpecker. And Solomon almost despaired of finding a
way out of the difficulty. But at last an idea came to him, all in a
flash. He would take his daytime naps somewhere else!

Solomon spent several nights looking for a good place to pass his days.
And in the end he decided on the meadow. It would be convenient, he
thought, when he was hunting meadow mice at dawn, if he could stay right
there, without bothering to go into the woods to sleep.

Since there were no trees in the meadow, but only a few scrubby bushes
along the stone wall, one might naturally make the mistake of thinking
that there could not possibly be a nook of any kind that would suit
Solomon Owl, who could never sleep soundly unless his bedroom was quite
dark.

But there was one hiding place that Solomon liked almost as well as his
home in the hollow hemlock. And that was Farmer Green's haystack. He
burrowed into one side of it and made himself a snug chamber, which was as
dark as a pocket--and ever so much quieter. What pleased Solomon most,
however, was this: Nobody knew about that new retreat except himself.

Even if Reddy Woodpecker should succeed in finding it, he never could
disturb Solomon by drumming upon the haystack. If Reddy tried that trick,
his bill would merely sink noiselessly into the hay.

So Solomon Owl at last had a good day's rest. And when he met Reddy
Woodpecker just after sunset, Solomon was feeling so cheerful that he said
"Good-evening!" quite pleasantly, before he remembered that it was Reddy
who had teased him so often.

"Good-evening!" Reddy Woodpecker replied. He seemed much surprised that
Solomon Owl should be so agreeable. "Can you hear me?" Reddy asked him.

"Perfectly!" said Solomon.

"That's strange!" Reddy Woodpecker exclaimed. "I was almost sure you had
suddenly grown deaf." And he could not understand why Solomon Owl laughed
loud and long.

"_Wha-wha! Whoo-ah!_" Solomon's deep-voiced laughter rolled and echoed
through the woodland.

But Reddy Woodpecker did not laugh at all.





XXII
IT WAS SOLOMON'S FAULT


Reddy Woodpecker had a very good reason for not laughing when he met
Solomon Owl. Of course, he knew nothing whatever of Solomon's new hiding
place in the haystack. And that very morning Reddy had invited a party of
friends to go with him to the hemlock grove where Solomon Owl had always
lived, "to have some fun," as Reddy had explained.

For a long time he had knocked and hammered and pounded at Solomon Owl's
door. But for once Solomon's great pale face did not appear.

"Where's the fun?" Reddy's friends had wanted to know, after they had
waited until they were impatient.

And Reddy Woodpecker could only shake his head and say:

"I can't understand it! It's never happened like this before. I'm afraid
Solomon Owl has lost his hearing."

Reddy Woodpecker's friends were no more polite than he. And they began to
jeer at him.

"You didn't hammer loud enough," one of them told him.

So he set to work again and rapped and rapped until his head felt as if it
would fly off, and his neck began to ache.

Still, Solomon Owl did not appear. And the party broke up in something
very like a quarrel. For Reddy Woodpecker lost his temper when his friends
teased him; and a good many unpleasant remarks passed back and forth.

Somehow, Reddy felt that it was all Solomon Owl's fault, because he hadn't
come to the door.

Of course, Reddy had no means of knowing that all that time Solomon Owl
was sleeping peacefully in Farmer Green's haystack in the meadow, a
quarter of a mile away.

It was a good joke on Reddy Woodpecker. And though no one had told Solomon
Owl about it, he was not so stupid that he couldn't guess at least _a
little_ that had happened.



Solomon Owl continued to have a very pleasant time living in the meadow.
Since there were many mice right close at hand, little by little he
visited the woods less and less. And there came a time at last when he
hardly left the meadow at all.

Not flying any more than he could help, and eating too much, and sleeping
very soundly each day, he grew stouter than ever, until his friends hardly
knew him when they saw him.

"Solomon Owl is a sight--he's so fat!" people began to say.

But his size never worried Solomon Owl in the least. When he became too
big for his doorway in the haystack, it was a simple matter to make the
opening larger--much simpler than it would have been to make himself
_smaller_. And that was another reason why he was delighted with his new
home.

At last, however, something happened to put an end to his lazy way of
living. One day the sound of men's voices awakened him, when he was having
a good nap in the haystack. And he felt his bedroom quiver as if an
earthquake had shaken it.

Scrambling to his doorway and peeping slyly out, Solomon saw a sight that
made him very angry. A hayrack stood alongside the stack; and on it stood
Farmer Green and his hired man. Each had a pitchfork in his hands, with
which he tore great forkfuls of hay off the stack and piled it upon the
wagon.

Solomon Owl knew then that his fine hiding place was going to be spoiled.
As soon as the horses had pulled the load of hay away, with Farmer Green
and the hired man riding on top of it, Solomon Owl crept out of his snug
bedroom and hurried off to the woods.

He was so fat that it was several days before he could squeeze inside his
old home in the hollow hemlock. And for the time being he had to sit on a
limb and sleep in the daylight as best he could.

But to his surprise, Reddy Woodpecker troubled him no more.  Reddy had
drummed so hard on Solomon's door, in the effort to awake him when he
wasn't there, that Aunt Polly Woodchuck told him he would ruin his bill,
if he didn't look out. And since the warning thoroughly alarmed him, Reddy
stopped visiting the hemlock grove.

In time Solomon Owl grew to look like himself again. And people never
really knew just what had happened to him. But they noticed that he always
hooted angrily whenever anybody mentioned Farmer Green's name.



THE END






***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL***



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