Part 15 (1/2)

The white rabbit was quite melancholy over his guest's persistent refusal to eat of his good cheer. ”But perhaps,” he said, ”creatures of your race never eat. I see that your nose does not wiggle when you speak, so perhaps you cannot eat, eh?”

”Oh, yes,” said Toto in an off-hand way. ”Yes, we _can_; and sometimes we _do_. I have eaten in the course of my life, and I may do it again, but not to-night.”

At this moment the guests all came pouring into the supper-room; and Toto began to think that it would be wise for him to slip away quietly, as it must be near his own supper-time, and his grandmother would be wondering where he was. So he took a friendly leave of the master of ceremonies, and nodding to the woodchuck, he left the supper-room, made his way through the ball-room, and dropping once more on his hands and knees, proceeded to wriggle his way as best he might through the underground pa.s.sage.

A very grimy and dusty boy he was when he came out again from behind the juniper-bush. He shook himself as well as he could, laughed a little over the recollection of the unsuccessful rabbit suitor kicking his heels in the air to express his devotion, and started on his way home.

He had spent a much longer time than he had meant to at the rinktum, and it was growing quite dark. He hurried along, for his way lay through a part of the wood where he did not like to go after dark.

The owls lived there, and Toto did not like the owls, because none of his friends liked them. They were surly, growly, ill-tempered birds, and were apt to make themselves very disagreeable if one met them after dark. Indeed, it was said that Mrs. Growler, the old grandmother owl of the family, had once eaten several of Cracker's brothers and sisters. The squirrel did not like to talk about it, but Toto knew that he hated the owls bitterly.

”I hope I shall not meet any of them,” said the boy to himself as he entered the wood. ”I am not afraid of them, of course,--it would be absurd for a boy to be afraid of an owl,--but I don't like them.”

The thought had scarcely crossed his mind, when he heard a sound of flapping wings; and a moment after a huge white owl flew down directly in front of him, and spreading its broad pinions, completely barred his pa.s.sage.

”Who?” said the owl.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'Who?' said the owl. 'Toto,' said the boy.”]

”Toto,” said the boy shortly. ”Let me pa.s.s, please. I'm in a hurry.”

”You're late!” said the owl severely.

”I know it,” replied Toto. ”That's why I asked you to let me pa.s.s. I don't want to talk to you, Mrs. Growler, and I don't suppose you want to talk to me.”

”Whit!” cried Mrs. Growler (for it was no other than that redoubtable female). ”Don't give me any of your impudence, sir! What do you mean by coming into our wood after dark, and then insulting me? Here, Hoots! Flappy! Horner! Come here, all of you! Here's this imp of a boy who's always making mischief here with that thieving racc.o.o.n. Let us give him a lesson, and teach him to stay where he belongs, and not come spying and prying into our wood!”

Immediately a rus.h.i.+ng sound was heard from all sides, and half-a-dozen owls came hooting and screaming around our hero.

Toto held his ground manfully, though he saw that the odds were greatly against him. One owl was all very well; but seven or eight owls, all armed with powerful beaks and claws, and all angry, were quite another matter, especially as the darkness, which exactly suited them, made it difficult for him to tell in which direction he should beat his retreat, supposing he were able to beat it at all.

He set his back against a tree, and faced the hooting, flapping crowd, whose great round eyes glared fiercely at him.

”I've never done any harm to any of you,” he said boldly. ”I've never thrown stones at you, and I've never taken more than one egg at a time from your nests. You have always hated me, Mother Growler, because I am a friend of c.o.o.n; and you're afraid of c.o.o.n, you know you are.

Come, let me go home quietly, and I'll promise not to come into your part of the wood again.

”I'm sure, there's no inducement for coming,” he added in a lower tone. ”It's the scraggiest part of the whole forest,--only fit for owls to live in!”

”Hoo! hoo!” cried Mother Growler in a rage. ”I'm afraid of c.o.o.n, am I?

A nasty, thieving creature, with an amount of tail that is simply disgusting! And our wood is scraggy, is it? Hoo! Give it to him, children!”

”Peck him!” cried all the owls in chorus; ”scratch him! tear him!

hustle him!” and, with wings and claws spread, they came flying at Toto.

Toto put one arm before his face, and prepared to defend himself as well as he could with the other. His blood was up, and he had no thought of trying to escape. If he could only get Mother Growler by the head now, and wring her neck!

But blows were falling like hail on his own head now,--sharp blows from h.o.r.n.y beaks and crooked talons. They were tearing his jacket off.

He was dazed, almost stunned, by the beating of the huge wings in his face. Decidedly, our Toto is in a bad way.