ig Meadow Mouse family
managed to have many a gay frolic under the stars on crisp winter
nights. Sometimes Johnnie Green, wandering over the fields on snow-shoes
by day, noticed a lacy tracery on the snow. It was the tracks of the
tiny toes of Master Meadow Mouse and his dozens of cousins. At first
Johnnie almost thought that he had stumbled upon the scene of a revel of
fairy mice. He did not know then that the Meadow Mouse family had a
village of their own right under his feet.

But Solomon Owl and Simon Screecher and old Rough-leg, the hawk, knew
all about the habits of the villagers. In fact they sometimes complained
about the way the Meadow Mouse family had built their tunnels. They
agreed that there were too many holes leading down to the village
streets. It gave the Meadow Mouse people too many openings into which to
dive in case of a sudden surprise when they were having a moonlight
party.

"If they ever invited me to one of their affairs I wouldn't care what
they did," Solomon Owl remarked one evening to his whistling cousin,
Simon Screecher. "If they'd welcome me just once to one of their dances
I'd be satisfied."

"It's plain that they don't like you," his cousin remarked.

"Nor you, either!" Solomon Owl boomed. And then all at once he burst
forth with a peal of ghostly laughter. _"Wha, wha, whoo-ah!_"

Now, Master Meadow Mouse had just crept out of one of his doorways and
was looking up at the stars when that shivery sound came rolling out of
the woods. When he heard it he turned quickly and hurried back where he
came from.

"There won't be any fun to-night," he grumbled.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

19

Owl Friends

"THERE'S no sense in wasting our time here," said Solomon Owl to his
small cousin, Simon Screecher. "It's a fine night. The Mice will all be
out sooner or later. Let's go over and sit in that old oak on the edge
of the meadow!"

Simon Screecher was more than willing. And they had no sooner settled
themselves among the bare branches of the oak when Simon started to
amuse himself by giving his well-known quavering whistle.

Solomon Owl stopped him quickly.

"Don't do that!" he said sharply. "Do you want to scare the Mice?"
Simon Screecher cut his whistle off right in the middle of it.

"I forgot," he murmured. "But I don't believe my whistling would do any
harm. I don't think there are many Mice left on Farmer Green's place.
It's my opinion that they've moved away--