ng about them,
we say, was that each doggie lived with an owl, or, more correctly, an
owl lived with each doggie! This is such an extraordinary _fact_ that
we could scarce hope that men would believe us, were our statement not
supported by dozens of trustworthy travellers who have visited and
written about these regions. The whole plain was covered with these
owls. Each hole seemed to be the residence of an owl and a doggie,
and these incongruous couples lived together apparently in perfect
harmony.

We have not been able to ascertain from travellers _why_ the owls have
gone to live with these doggies, so we beg humbly to offer our own
private opinion to the reader. We assume, then, that owls find it
absolutely needful to have holes. Probably prairie-owls cannot dig
holes for themselves. Having discovered, however, a race of little
creatures that could, they very likely determined to take forcible
possession of the holes made by them. Finding, no doubt, that when
they did so the doggies were too timid to object, and discovering,
moreover, that they were sweet, innocent little creatures, the
owls resolved to take them into partnership, and so the thing was
settled--that's how it came about, no doubt of it!

There is a report that rattlesnakes live in these holes also; but we
cannot certify our reader of the truth of this. Still it is well to
be acquainted with a report that is current among the men of the
backwoods. If it be true, we are of opinion that the doggie's family
is the most miscellaneous and remarkable on the face of--or, as Henri
said, in the bo'-els of the earth.

Dick and his friends were so deeply absorbed in watching these curious
little creatures that they did not observe the rapid spread of the
black clouds over the sky. A few heavy drops of rain now warned them
to seek shelter, so wheeling round they dashed off at full speed for
the clump of willows, which they gained just as the rain began to
descend in torrents.

"Now, lads, do it slick. Off packs and saddles," cried Joe Blunt,
jumping from his horse. "I'll make a hut for ye, right off."

"A hut, Joe! what sort o' hut can ye make here?" inquired Dick.

"Ye'll see, boy, in a minute."

"Ach! lend me a hand here, Dick; de bockle am tight as de hoss's own
skin. Ah! dere all right."

"Hallo! what's this?" exclaimed Dick, as Crusoe advanced with
something in his mouth. "I declare, it's a bird o' some sort."

"A prairie-hen," remarked Joe, as Cr