The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse Part 8

The disappointed fisherman returned to his fis.h.i.+ng. But it seemed as if his luck had turned. Not another fish came his way. And being too wise to expect that another Meadow Mouse would come traveling down the creek on a raft, Mr. Great Blue Heron at last forsook his sport and sailed away through the air towards the lake on the other side of Blue Mountain.

He hadn't been gone a great while when Master Meadow Mouse might have been seen picking his way along the bank. He was journeying upstream, on his way home.

"It was lucky for me--" he explained to his cousin, whom he met later--"it was lucky for me that I could swim under water. Otherwise I shouldn't have been able to hide beneath the board and stay there until it swung into the rushes."

"You had a narrow escape," his cousin told him. "Don't say that I didn't warn you!"

That cousin was one of those persons that always exclaim, "I told you so!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

18

Under the Snow

WINTER had come. The snow lay deep over Pleasant Valley. But Master Meadow Mouse didn't object to that. On the contrary, he had welcomed the snow. Even Johnnie Green, peeping out of his chamber window at the first snowfall of the season, hadn't been any happier over it than Master Meadow Mouse was. To Johnnie Green the snow meant fun. To Master Meadow Mouse it meant fun and something more.

At last he could scamper about the meadow without being seen by everybody. For he set to work at once to make tunnels beneath the snow.

They ran in every direction from his house. And he was forever pus.h.i.+ng them further and further.

Through those tunnels Master Meadow Mouse could look for seeds and grain in the stubble. And while he was rambling along his network of halls he didn't have to worry about anybody's making trouble for him, unless it was Peter Mink, perhaps, or Grumpy Weasel.

Of course Master Meadow Mouse didn't stay under the snow all the time.

Now and then he liked to climb up into the open air. And he made many shafts that led to the world above.

Although most of the birds had gone South to spend the winter, there were still some that Master Meadow Mouse had to shun. Old Mr. Crow was spending the winter on the farm. And there were Solomon Owl and his cousin Simon Screecher, who hunted over the meadow nightly. And at dusk sometimes a fierce hawk known as "Rough-leg" would beat his way back and forth across the snow covered stretches in the hope of catching one of the Meadow Mouse family unawares.

In spite of such unpleasant neighbors, the big Meadow Mouse family managed to have many a gay frolic under the stars on crisp winter nights. Sometimes Johnnie Green, wandering over the fields on snow-shoes by day, noticed a lacy tracery on the snow. It was the tracks of the tiny toes of Master Meadow Mouse and his dozens of cousins. At first Johnnie almost thought that he had stumbled upon the scene of a revel of fairy mice. He did not know then that the Meadow Mouse family had a village of their own right under his feet.

But Solomon Owl and Simon Screecher and old Rough-leg, the hawk, knew all about the habits of the villagers. In fact they sometimes complained about the way the Meadow Mouse family had built their tunnels. They agreed that there were too many holes leading down to the village streets. It gave the Meadow Mouse people too many openings into which to dive in case of a sudden surprise when they were having a moonlight party.

"If they ever invited me to one of their affairs I wouldn't care what they did," Solomon Owl remarked one evening to his whistling cousin, Simon Screecher. "If they'd welcome me just once to one of their dances I'd be satisfied."

"It's plain that they don't like you," his cousin remarked.

"Nor you, either!" Solomon Owl boomed. And then all at once he burst forth with a peal of ghostly laughter. _"Wha, wha, whoo-ah!_"

Now, Master Meadow Mouse had just crept out of one of his doorways and was looking up at the stars when that s.h.i.+very sound came rolling out of the woods. When he heard it he turned quickly and hurried back where he came from.

"There won't be any fun to-night," he grumbled.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

19

Owl Friends

"THERE'S no sense in wasting our time here," said Solomon Owl to his small cousin, Simon Screecher. "It's a fine night. The Mice will all be out sooner or later. Let's go over and sit in that old oak on the edge of the meadow!"

Simon Screecher was more than willing. And they had no sooner settled themselves among the bare branches of the oak when Simon started to amuse himself by giving his well-known quavering whistle.

Solomon Owl stopped him quickly.

"Don't do that!" he said sharply. "Do you want to scare the Mice?"

Simon Screecher cut his whistle off right in the middle of it.

"I forgot," he murmured. "But I don't believe my whistling would do any harm. I don't think there are many Mice left on Farmer Green's place.

It's my opinion that they've moved away--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 c.o.c.ked 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."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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.