Then all would be lost. It was a trying moment for Puss, Jr.

Suddenly an owl hooted outside. Jack slowly opened his eyes.

"'S-sh!" cautioned Puss, quietly, "be careful!"

"Don't worry," replied Jack in a whisper. "I've no desire to make the
acquaintance of the giant. He wouldn't care for my stories. He'd just
eat me up."

"That he would," said Puss. "He's no good, either. He broke his promise
to me last night," and then Puss told Jack how the giant had said he
would let the little hen off for once if Puss would tell some of his
adventures.

"And I spent all last evening telling him stories till I was tired out,"
concluded Puss, "and now he has kept that poor little hen by his side
all night long. She's in the great living-room on the table, not daring
to move. And the giant has the gold egg tightly grasped in his hand."

"Let's rescue the little hen," said Puss.

"How can we?" asked Jack.

"Why, just run off with her," replied Puss.

"Where to?" said Jack, for he was still rather sleepy and his mind was
not working as rapidly as Puss, Jr.'s.

"Take her home to your mother," whispered Puss. Together they crept into
the room where the giant still lay snoring. Jack carefully picked up the
little hen and started for the door. As he did so he knocked Puss,
Jr.'s, staff from his paw.

"Run!" cried Puss, as the giant opened his eyes. They fell upon Puss,
for Jack had disappeared down the bean-stalk.

"You have stolen my hen!" he roared.

Puss darted in another direction and the giant after him. Just then the
little owl, who had awakened Jack, flew near and called out:

"The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat."

And this is the way Puss, Jr., escaped from the wicked giant.

PUSS, JR., MEETS MR. ROWLEY FROG

The following day Puss, Jr., was trudging along near the edge of a
forest. The land was rather low and marshy, and the path was none too
dry. He gingerly picked his way, avoiding as well as possible the muddy
spots. Of a sudden his attention was arrested by a funny sight.

A few feet in front of him, as he rounded a curve in the path, was a
frog. On his head rested a large stove-pipe hat, much worn and
weather-beaten. A large cigar was in his mouth, on which he puffed away
vigorously, the clouds of smoke streaming out behind him like a long
gray feather.

"Hello, Mr. Rowley!" cried Puss.

The frog turned. Taking the cigar out of his mouth, he answered