The Tale of Solomon Owl Part 9

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.

[_Ill.u.s.tration 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 c.o.o.n 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