most of them. Or maybe old
Rough-leg, the Hawk, has caught more than his share. Anyhow, it's so
long since I ate a Meadow Mouse that I've almost forgotten what they're
like."

Solomon Owl made no reply. He was a person of few words. If anybody
asked his opinion he was ready to give it. But he seldom gave any
unsought advice.

"I've about made up my mind," said Simon Screecher, "that I'd move to
some other neighborhood. If I knew where there was good mousing I'd
move to-morrow."

While he was speaking, Solomon Owl started ever so slightly. And he
cocked his head on one side, as if he were listening for something.

At that moment his cousin began to whistle again.

"Be quiet!" Solomon Owl thundered. "If I'm not mistaken I heard a
squeak. But no Meadow Mouse will ever venture out of doors if you're
going to whistle."

"I forgot," said Simon Screecher once more. "I'm so used to whistling
that I don't know when I'm doing it."

[Illustration: Solomon Owl and Simon Screecher wait for Master Meadow
Mouse]

"That's the reason why you can't catch more Mice," Solomon Owl snapped;
for he was angry. "There are dozens of Meadow Mice under the snow. But
of course you can't surprise them if you tell them you're coming. You
might as well send them a telegram, saying that you'll be on hand to
meet them at eight P. M."

Simon Screecher was silenced for the time being.

And it wasn't long before Solomon Owl gave another start.

"There's that squeak again!" he whispered. "I believe it is getting
nearer, too."

Now, Master Meadow Mouse had a tunnel that led right beneath the tree
where the two cousins were sitting. And he had strolled that way after
scurrying under the snow when he heard Solomon Owl laughing in the woods
earlier in the evening.

It was he that Solomon heard. It was he that stuck his head out of a
hole in the snow and peeped up at the star-sprinkled sky.

Solomon Owl saw him. And he dived out of the old oak straight at Master
Meadow Mouse.

Master Meadow Mouse pulled his head in just in time.

"I didn't suppose that chap would be here as soon as this," he gasped.
"He must have hurried over here from the woods. He must be very hungry."

As Solomon Owl returned to the old oak his cousin Simon Screecher
laughed somewhat unpleasantly.

"Missed him--didn't you?" he inquired.

"Yes!"

"Why didn't you grab him out of the snow?" Simon asked. "What are your
claws for? What's your beak for?"

"I couldn't d