ew up, and where her
grandchildren now played hide-and-seek. Near at hand stood a noble oak,
with a big dead branch at the top that was famous the country round as a
look-out post for hawks and crows; and maybe an eagle now and then had
used it, in years gone by.

But hawk and crow were asleep, and toads were trilling a lullaby from
the pond, while far, far off in the heart of the woods, a whip-poor-will
called once, twice, and again.

Solomon loved the dusk. His life was fullest then and his sight was
keenest. His eyes were wide open, and he could see clearly the shadow of
the leaves when the wind moved them lightly from time to time. He was at
ease in the great night-world, and master of many a secret that
sleepy-eyed day-folk never guess. As he shook out his loose, soft coat
and breathed the cool air, he felt the pleasant tang of a hunger that
has with it no fear of famine.

Once more he sent his challenge through the moonlight with quivering,
quavering voice, and some who heard it loved the darkness better for
this spirit of the night, and some shivered as if with dread. For
Solomon had sounded his hunting call, and, as with the baying of hounds
or the tune of a hunter's horn, one ear might find music in the note and
another hear only a wail.

Then, silent as a shadow, he left his branch. Solomon, a little lone
hunter in the dark, was off on the chase. Whither he went or what he
caught, there was no sound to tell, until, suddenly, one quick squeak
way over beside the corn-crib might have notified a farmer that another
mouse was gone. But the owner of the corn-crib was asleep, and dreaming,
more than likely, that the cat, which was at that moment disturbing a
pair of meadow bobolinks, was somehow wholly to be thanked for the
scarcity of mice about the place.

[Illustration: _Oh, the wise, wise look of him._]

Solomon was not wasteful about his food. He swallowed his evening
breakfast whole. That is, he swallowed all but the tail, which was
fairly long and stuck out of his mouth for some time, giving him rather
a queer two-tailed look, one at each end! But there was no one about to
laugh at him, and it was, in some respects, an excellent way to make a
meal. For one thing, it saved him all trouble of cutting up his food;
and then, too, there was no danger of his overeating, for he could tell
that he had had enough as long as there wasn't room for the tail. And
after the good nutritious parts of his breakfast wer