t was a shrill laugh. "I should say not," said he. "I
eat spiders and worms and all sorts of insects big enough to give a
fellow a decent bite. But for real good eating give me a fat Meadow
Mouse. I don't object to a Sparrow or some other small bird now and
then, especially when I have a family of hungry youngsters to feed. But
take it the season through, I live mostly on grasshoppers and insects
and Meadow Mice. I do a lot of good in this world, I'd have you know."

Peter said that he supposed that this was so, but all the time he
kept thinking what a pity it was that Killy ever killed his feathered
neighbors. As soon as he conveniently could he politely bade Killy
good-by and hurried home to the dear Old Briar-patch, there to think
over how queer it seemed that a member of the hawk family should nest
in a hollow tree and a member of the Swallow family should dig a hole in
the ground.

CHAPTER XXIII. Some Big Mouths.

Boom! Peter Rabbit jumped as if he had been shot. It was all so sudden
and unexpected that Peter jumped before he had time to think. Then
he looked foolish. He felt foolish. He had been scared when there was
nothing to be afraid of.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha," tittered Jenny Wren. "What are you jumping for, Peter
Rabbit? That was only Boomer the Nighthawk."

"I know it just as well as you do, Jenny Wren," retorted Peter rather
crossly. "You know being suddenly startled is apt to make people feel
cross. If I had seen him anywhere about he wouldn't have made me jump.
It was the unexpectedness of it. I don't see what he is out now for,
anyway, It isn't even dusk yet, and I thought him a night bird."

"So he is," retorted Jenny Wren. "Anyway, he is a bird of the evening,
and that amounts to the same thing. But just because he likes the
evening best isn't any reason why he shouldn't come out in the daylight,
is it?"

"No-o," replied Peter rather slowly. "I don't suppose it is."

"Of course it isn't," declared Jenny Wren. "I see Boomer late in the
afternoon nearly every day. On cloudy days I often see him early in the
afternoon. He's a queer fellow, is Boomer. Such a mouth as he has! I
suppose it is very handy to have a big mouth if one must catch all one's
food in the air, but it certainly isn't pretty when it is wide open."

"I never saw a mouth yet that was pretty when it was wide open,"
retorted Peter, who was still feeling a little put out. "I've never
noticed that Boomer has a particularly big mout