Chapter II: Part 2

There was only one objection to the sign. As soon as Jimmy Rabbit saw it he told Solomon that it should have said:

DISPUTES SETTLED WITHOUT

“Without what?” Solomon Owl inquired.

“Why, without going into your house!” said Jimmy Rabbit. “I can’t climb a tree, you know. And neither can Tommy Fox. We might have a dispute to-night; and how could you ever settle it?”

“Oh, I shall be willing to step outside,” Solomon told him. And he refused to change the sign, declaring that he liked it just as it was.

Now, there was only one trouble with Solomon Owl’s settling of disputes. Many of the forest folk wanted to see him in the daytime. And _night_ was the only time _he_ was willing to see them. But he heard so many objections to that arrangement that in the end Solomon agreed to meet people at dusk and at dawn, when it was neither very dark nor very light. On the whole he found that way very satisfactory, because there was just enough light at dusk and at dawn to make him blink. And when Solomon blinked he looked even wiser than ever.

Well, the first disputing pair that came to Solomon’s tree after he hung out his new sign were old Mr. Crow and Jasper Jay. They reached the hemlock grove soon after sunset and squalled loudly for Solomon. “Hurry!” Mr. Crow cried, as soon as Solomon Owl stepped outside his door. “It will be dark before we know it; and it’s almost our bedtime.”

“What’s your difficulty?” Solomon asked them.

Mr. Crow looked at Jasper Jay. And then he looked at Solomon again.

“Maybe you won’t like to hear it,” he said. And he winked at Jasper. “But you’ve put out this sign—so we’ve come here.”

“You’ve done just right!” exclaimed Solomon Owl. “And as for my not liking to hear the trouble, it’s your dispute and not mine. So I don’t see how it concerns me—except to settle it.”

“Very Well,” Mr. Crow answered. “The dispute, then, is this: Jasper says that in spite of your looking so wise, you’re really the stupidest person in Pleasant Valley.”

“He does, eh?” cried Solomon Owl, while Jasper Jay laughed loudly. “And you, of course, do not agree with him,” Solomon continued.

“I do not!” Mr. Crow declared.

“Good!” said Solomon, nodding his head approvingly.

“No, I do not agree with Jasper Jay,” Mr. Crow said. “I claim that there’s one other person more stupid than you are—and that’s Fatty Coon.”

Well, Solomon Owl certainly was displeased. And it didn’t make him feel any happier to hear Jasper Jay’s boisterous shouts, or the hoarse “_haw-haw_” of old Mr. Crow.

“I hope you can decide which one of us is right,” Mr. Crow ventured.

“I am, of course!” cried Jasper Jay.

“You’re not!” Mr. Crow shouted. And to Solomon Owl he said, “We’ve been disputing like this all day long.”

Solomon Owl didn’t know what to say. If he announced that Jasper was right it would be the same as admitting that he was the stupidest person in the whole neighborhood. And if he said that old Mr. Crow’s opinion was correct he would not be much better off. Naturally he didn’t want to tell either of them that he was right.

“I’ll have to think about this,” Solomon observed at last.

“We don’t want to wait,” said Mr. Crow. “If we keep on disputing we’re likely to have a fight.”

Now, Solomon Owl hoped that they would have a fight. So he was determined to keep them waiting for his decision.

“Come back to-morrow at this time,” he said.

XVI Nine Fights

The next evening, just at dusk, Jasper Jay and old Mr. Crow returned to Solomon Owl’s house, looking much bedraggled. One of Mr. Crow’s eyes was almost closed; and Jasper Jay’s crest seemed to have been torn half off his head.

“What’s the matter?” asked Solomon, as soon as he saw them.

“We’ve had three fights,” said Jasper Jay.

“Yes! And I’ve whipped him each time!” cried Mr. Crow. “So I must be in the right. And you’d better decide our dispute in my favor at once.”

But Solomon Owl was still in no hurry.

“It’s a difficult question to settle,” said he. “I don’t want to make any mistake. So I shall have to ask you to come back here to-morrow at this time.”

Both Jasper and Mr. Crow seemed disappointed. Although Mr. Crow had won each fight, he was very weary, for he was older than Jasper Jay.

As they went off, Solomon Owl began to feel much pleased with himself.

The following evening, at sunset, old Mr. Crow and Jasper Jay visited Solomon Owl once more. And they looked more battered than ever.

“We’ve had three more fights,” said Mr. Crow.

“Yes! And I won each time!” Jasper Jay piped up. “So I must be in the right. And you’d better decide in my favor without any further delay.”

Solomon Owl thought deeply for some time.

“Maybe I ought to wait until to-morrow——” he began.

But his callers both shouted “No!”

“Well,” said Solomon, “Mr. Crow has won three fights; and Jasper Jay has won three. So it is certain that each must be in the wrong.”

But that announcement did not satisfy Jasper and Mr. Crow. And they left the hemlock grove, disputing more loudly than ever.

And the next day, at dusk, they came back again.

“We’ve had three more fights; and I won!” they both cried at the same time.

“That proves my claim,” said Solomon Owl. “You’re both wrong.”

They whispered together for a few minutes.

“We don’t like your way of settling disputes,” Mr. Crow remarked shortly. “But we’ve decided to stop quarreling.”

“Good!” said Solomon Owl. “That shows that you are sensible.”

“Yes!” replied Jasper. “We’ve decided to stop quarreling and fight _you!_”

“Wait a moment!” said Solomon Owl hastily, as they drew nearer. “I don’t want my new suit spoiled.” And he ducked inside the hollow tree before they could reach him.

Jasper and Mr. Crow waited and waited. But Solomon Owl did not reappear. And since his two visitors did not dare follow him into the dark cavern where he lived, they decided at last that they would go home—and get into bed.

“Let’s take away his sign, anyhow!” Jasper Jay suggested.

So they pulled down Solomon’s sign, which said “Disputes Settled Within,” and they carried it off with them and hid it in some bushes.

That same night Solomon Owl hunted for it for a long time. But he never found it.

He decided not to hang out another, for he saw that settling disputes was a dangerous business.

XVII Cousin Simon Screecher

Solomon Owl had a small cousin named Simon Screecher. He was unlike Solomon in some respects, because he always wore ear-tufts, and his eyes were yellow instead of black. But in some other ways he was no different from Solomon Owl, for he was a noisy chap and dearly loved mice—to eat.

It happened that the two met in the woods one fine fall evening; and they agreed to go hunting mice together.

Now, being so much smaller than Solomon, Simon Screecher was all the spryer. In fact, he was so active that he could catch mice faster than Solomon Owl could capture them. And they had not hunted long before Solomon discovered that Simon had succeeded in disposing of six mice to his three.

That discovery did not please Solomon at all.

“Look here!” he said. “Since we are hunting together it’s only fair to divide what we catch, half and half.”

Simon Screecher hesitated. But after reflecting that his cousin was very big and very strong, he agreed to Solomon’s suggestion.

So they resumed their hunting. And every time one of them caught two mice, he gave one mouse to his cousin.

Still Solomon Owl was not satisfied.

“Wait a moment!” Solomon called to Simon Screecher. “It has just occurred to me that I am more than twice as big as you are; so I ought to have twice as many mice as you.”

This time Simon Screecher hesitated longer. He did not like the second suggestion even as well as the first. And in the end he said as much, too.

But Solomon Owl insisted that it was only fair.

“You surely ought to be glad to please your own cousin,” he told Simon.

“It’s not that,” said Simon Screecher. “It seems to me that since I’m not half your size, I ought to have twice as many mice to eat, so I’ll grow bigger.”

Well, Solomon Owl hadn’t thought of that. He was puzzled to know what to say. And he wanted time in which to ponder.

“I’ll think over what you say,” he told Simon Screecher. “And now, since it’s almost dawn, we’d better not hunt any longer to-night. But I’ll meet you again at dusk if you’ll come to my house.”

“Very well, Cousin Solomon!” Simon answered. “I’m sure that after you’ve had a good sleep you’ll be ready to agree with me.”

“If that’s the case, I may not take any nap at all,” Solomon replied.

“Oh! You ought to have your rest!” his cousin exclaimed. Simon knew that if Solomon went all day without sleep he would be frightfully peevish by nightfall.

“Well—I’ll try to get forty winks,” Solomon promised. “But I don’t believe I can get more than that, because I have so much on my mind that I’m sure to be wakeful.”

Simon Screecher was somewhat worried as they parted. His wailing, tremulous whistle, which floated through the shadowy woods, showed that he was far from happy.

XVIII A Cousinly Quarrel

It proved to be just as Solomon Owl had told his cousin, Simon Screecher. Solomon had so much on his mind that he had no sooner fallen asleep than he awoke again, to study over the question that perplexed him. He certainly did not want Simon to have twice as many mice as he. But Simon’s argument was a good one. He had said that since Solomon was more than twice his size, it was proper that he should have a chance to grow. And everybody knew—Solomon reflected—everybody knew that _eating_ made one larger.

The longer Solomon pondered, the farther he seemed from any answer that he liked. And he had begun to fear that he would not succeed in getting more than thirty-nine winks all day—instead of forty—when all at once an idea came into his mind.

Solomon knew right away that he had nothing more to worry about. He dropped into a sound sleep with a pleasant smile upon his usually solemn face. And when he opened his eyes again it was time for Simon Screecher to arrive.

Yes! Solomon could hear his cousin’s whistle even then. So he hurried to his door; and there was Simon, sitting on a limb of the big hemlock waiting for him!

“It’s all right!” said Solomon to his cousin. “I agree to your suggestion. We’ll hunt together again to-night; and if you will give me one-third of all the mice you catch, I promise to give you two-thirds of all the mice that I capture.”

“Good!” said Simon Screecher. And he looked vastly relieved. “Just hoot when you have any mice for me!”

“Whistle when you have any for me!” Solomon Owl replied.

And at that they started out for their night’s sport. It was not long before Simon Screecher’s well known whistle brought Solomon hurrying to him. Simon already had three mice, one of which he gave to Solomon, according to their agreement.

That same thing happened several times; until at last Simon Screecher began to grumble.

“What’s the matter?” he asked his cousin. “You are not hooting, as you promised you would.”

“But I haven’t caught any mice yet!” Solomon Owl replied.

“It’s All Right,” Said Solomon

Again and again and again Simon’s call summoned Solomon. But not once did Solomon’s summon Simon. And all the time Simon Screecher grew more discontented. Toward the end of the night he declared flatly that he wasn’t going to hunt any more with his cousin.

“I’ve done exactly as I agreed!” Solomon Owl protested.

“You’re altogether too slow and clumsy,” Simon Screecher told him bluntly. “If I’m going to hunt with anybody after this I’m going to choose someone that’s as spry as I am. There’s no sense in my working for you. Here I’ve toiled all night long and I’m still hungry, for I’ve given you a third of my food.”

They parted then—and none too pleasantly.

In Simon’s whistle, as he flew away toward his home, there was unmistakable anger. But Solomon Owl’s answering hoots—while they were not exactly sweet—seemed to carry more than a hint of laughter.

One would naturally think that Solomon might have been even hungrier than his small cousin. But it was not so. He had had more to eat than usual; for he had been very busy catching locusts and katydids—and frogs, too. Solomon Owl had not tried to catch a single mouse that night.

You know now the idea that had come to him while he was lying awake in his house during the daytime. He had made up his mind that he would not hunt for mice. And since he had not promised Simon to give him anything else, there was no reason why he should not eat all the frogs and katydids and locusts that he could find.

Perhaps it was not surprising that Simon Screecher never guessed the truth. But he seemed to know that there was something queer about that night’s hunting, for he never came to Solomon Owl’s house again.

XIX The Sleet Storm

It was winter. And for several days a strong south wind had swept up Pleasant Valley. That—as Solomon Owl knew very well—that meant a thaw was coming. He was not sorry, because the weather had been bitterly cold.

Well, the thaw came. And the weather grew so warm that Solomon Owl could stay out all night without once feeling chilled. He found the change so agreeable that he strayed further from home than was his custom. Indeed, he was far away on the other side of Blue Mountain at midnight, when it began to rain.

Now, that was not quite so pleasant. But still Solomon did not mind greatly. It was not until later that he began to feel alarmed, when he noticed that flying did not seem so easy as usual.

Solomon had grown heavy all at once—and goodness knows it was not because he had overeaten, for food was scarce at that season of the year. Moreover, Solomon’s wings were strangely stiff. When he moved them they _crackled_.

“It must be my joints,” he said to himself. “I’m afraid this wetting has given me rheumatism.” So he started home at once—though it was only midnight. But the further he went, the worse he felt—and the harder it was to fly.

“I’ll have to rest a while,” he said to himself at last. So he alighted on a limb; for he was more tired than he had ever been in all his life.

But he soon felt so much better that he was ready to start on again. And then, to his dismay, Solomon Owl found that he could hardly stir. The moment he left his perch he floundered down upon the ground. And though he tried his hardest, he couldn’t reach the tree again.

The rain was still beating down steadily. And Solomon began to think it a bad night to be out. What was worse, the weather was fast turning cold.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to stay in bed a week after this,” he groaned. “If I sit here long, as wet as I am, while the thaw turns into a _freeze_, I shall certainly be ill.”

Now, if it hadn’t been for the rain, Solomon Owl would have had no trouble at all. Or if it hadn’t been for the freezing cold he would have been in no difficulty. Though he didn’t know it, his trouble was simply this: The rain froze upon him as

fast as it fell, covering him with a coating of ice. It was no wonder that he felt strangely heavy—no wonder that he couldn’t fly.

There he crouched on the ground, while the rain and sleet beat upon him. And the only comforting thought that entered his head was that on so stormy a night Tommy Fox and Fatty Coon would be snug and warm in their beds. _They_ wouldn’t go out in such weather.

And Solomon Owl wished that he, too, had stayed at home that night.

From midnight until almost dawn Solomon Owl sat there. Now and then he tried to fly. But it was no use. He could scarcely raise himself off the ground.

At last he decided he would have to _walk_ home. Fortunately, a hard crust covered the soft snow. So Solomon started off on his long journey.

Flying, Solomon could have covered the distance in a few minutes. But he was a slow walker. By the time he reached his home among the hemlocks the sun was shining brightly—for the rain had stopped before daybreak.

Solomon wondered how he would ever succeed in reaching his doorway, high up in the hollow tree. He gazed helplessly upward. And as he sat there mournfully the bright sunshine melted the ice that bound his wings. After a time he discovered that he could move freely once more. And then he rose quickly in the air and in a twinkling he had disappeared into the darkness of his home—that darkness which to him was always so pleasant.

XX A Pair Of Red-Heads

In the woods there was hardly one of Solomon Owl’s neighbors that couldn’t point out the big hemlock tree where he lived. And mischievous fellows like Reddy Woodpecker sometimes annoyed Solomon a good deal by rapping loudly on his door. When he thrust his head angrily out of his house and blinked in the sunlight, his tormentors would skip away and laugh. They laughed because they knew that they had awakened Solomon Owl. And they dodged out of his reach because he was always ill-tempered when anybody disturbed his rest in the daytime.

Solomon Owl did not mind so _very_ much so long as that trick was not played on him too often. But after a time it became one of Reddy Woodpecker’s favorite sports. Not only once, but several times a day did he go to the hemlock grove to hammer upon Solomon’s hollow tree. And each time that he brought Solomon Owl to his door Reddy Woodpecker laughed more loudly than ever before.

Once Solomon forgot to take off his nightcap (though he wore it in the daytime, it really was a nightcap). And Reddy Woodpecker was so amused that he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“What’s the joke?” asked Solomon Owl in his deep, rumbling voice. He tried to look very severe. But it is hard to look any way except funny with a nightcap on one’s head.

As luck had it, Jasper Jay came hurrying up just then. He had heard Reddy Woodpecker’s laughter. And if there was a joke he wanted to enjoy it, too.

Jasper Jay, alighting in a small hemlock near Reddy Woodpecker, asked the same question that Solomon Owl had just put to his rude caller.

“What’s the joke?” inquired Jasper Jay.

Reddy could not speak. He was rocking back and forth upon a limb, choking and gasping for breath. But he managed to point to the big tree where Solomon Owl lived.

And when Jasper looked, and saw Solomon’s great, round, pale, questioning face, all tied up in a red nightcap, he began to scream.

They were no ordinary screams—those shrieks of Jasper Jay’s. That blue-coated rascal was the noisiest of all the feathered folk in Pleasant Valley. And now he fairly made the woods echo with his hoarse cries.

“This is the funniest sight I’ve ever seen!” Jasper Jay said at last, to nobody in particular. “I declare, there’s a pair of them!”

At that, Reddy Woodpecker suddenly stopped laughing.

“A pair of what?” he asked.

“A pair of red-heads, of course!” Jasper Jay replied. “You’ve a red cap—and so has he!” Jasper pointed at Solomon Owl (a very rude thing to do!).

Then two things happened all at once. Solomon Owl snatched off his red night-cap—which he had quite forgotten. And Reddy Woodpecker dashed at Jasper Jay. He couldn’t pull off _his_ red cap, for it grew right on his head.

“So that’s what you’re laughing at, is it?” he cried angrily. And then nobody laughed any more—that is, nobody but Solomon Owl.

Solomon was so pleased by the fight that followed between Jasper Jay and Reddy Woodpecker that his deep, rumbling laughter could be heard for half an hour—even if it _was_ midday. “_Wha-wha! Whoo-ah!_” The sound reached the ears of Farmer Green, who was just crossing a neighboring field, on his way home to dinner.

“Well, well!” he exclaimed. “I wonder what’s happened to that old owl! Something must have tickled him—for I never heard an owl laugh in broad daylight before.”

XXI At Home In The Haystack

After what happened when he came to his door without remembering to take off his red nightcap, Solomon Owl hoped that Reddy Woodpecker would stop teasing him.

But it was not so. Having once viewed Solomon’s red cap, Reddy Woodpecker wanted to see it some more. So he came again and again and knocked on Solomon’s door.

Solomon Owl, however, remembered each time to remove his nightcap before sticking his head out. And it might be said that neither of them was exactly pleased. For Reddy Woodpecker was disappointed; and Solomon Owl was angry.

Not a day passed that Reddy Woodpecker didn’t disturb Solomon’s rest at least a dozen times. Perhaps if Solomon had just kept still inside his house Reddy would have grown tired of bothering him. But Solomon Owl—for all he looked so wise—never thought of that.

But he saw before a great while that he would have to make a change of some sort—if he wanted to enjoy a good, quiet sleep again.

For a long time Solomon Owl pondered. It was a great puzzle—to know just how to outwit Reddy Woodpecker. And Solomon almost despaired of finding a way out of the difficulty. But at last an idea came to him, all in a flash. He would take his daytime naps somewhere else!

Solomon spent several nights looking for a good place to pass his days. And in the end he decided on the meadow. It would be convenient, he thought, when he was hunting meadow mice at dawn, if he could stay right there, without bothering to go into the woods to sleep.

Since there were no trees in the meadow, but only a few scrubby bushes along the stone wall, one might naturally make the mistake of thinking that there could not possibly be a nook of any kind that would suit Solomon Owl, who could never sleep soundly unless his bedroom was quite dark.

But there was one hiding place that Solomon liked almost as well as his home in the hollow hemlock. And that was Farmer Green’s haystack. He burrowed into one side of it and made himself a snug chamber, which was as dark as a pocket—and ever so much quieter. What pleased Solomon most, however, was this: Nobody knew about that new retreat except himself.

Even if Reddy Woodpecker should succeed in finding it, he never could disturb Solomon by drumming upon the haystack. If Reddy tried that trick, his bill would merely sink noiselessly into the hay.

So Solomon Owl at last had a good day’s rest. And when he met Reddy Woodpecker just after sunset, Solomon was feeling so cheerful that he said “Good-evening!” quite pleasantly, before he remembered that it was Reddy who had teased him so often.

“Good-evening!” Reddy Woodpecker replied. He seemed much surprised that Solomon Owl should be so agreeable. “Can you hear me?” Reddy asked him.

“Perfectly!” said Solomon.

“That’s strange!” Reddy Woodpecker exclaimed. “I was almost sure you had suddenly grown deaf.” And he could not understand why Solomon Owl laughed loud and long.

“_Wha-wha! Whoo-ah!_” Solomon’s deep-voiced laughter rolled and echoed through the woodland.

But Reddy Woodpecker did not laugh at all.

XXII It Was Solomon’s Fault

Reddy Woodpecker had a very good reason for not laughing when he met Solomon Owl. Of course, he knew nothing whatever of Solomon’s new hiding place in the haystack. And that very morning Reddy had invited a party of friends to go with him to the hemlock grove where Solomon Owl had always lived, “to have some fun,” as Reddy had explained.

For a long time he had knocked and hammered and pounded at Solomon Owl’s door. But for once Solomon’s great pale face did not appear.

“Where’s the fun?” Reddy’s friends had wanted to know, after they had waited until they were impatient.

And Reddy Woodpecker could only shake his head and say:

“I can’t understand it! It’s never happened like this before. I’m afraid Solomon Owl has lost his hearing.”

Reddy Woodpecker’s friends were no more polite than he. And they began to jeer at him.

“You didn’t hammer loud enough,” one of them told him.

So he set to work again and rapped and rapped until his head felt as if it would fly off, and his neck began to ache.

Still, Solomon Owl did not appear. And the party broke up in something very like a quarrel. For Reddy Woodpecker lost his temper when his friends teased him; and a good many unpleasant remarks passed back and forth.

Somehow, Reddy felt that it was all Solomon Owl’s fault, because he hadn’t come to the door.

Of course, Reddy had no means of knowing that all that time Solomon Owl was sleeping peacefully in Farmer Green’s haystack in the meadow, a quarter of a mile away.

It was a good joke on Reddy Woodpecker. And though no one had told Solomon Owl about it, he was not so stupid that he couldn’t guess at least _a little_ that had happened.

Solomon Owl continued to have a very pleasant time living in the meadow. Since there were many mice right close at hand, little by little he visited the woods less and less. And there came a time at last when he hardly left the meadow at all.

Not flying any more than he could help, and eating too much, and sleeping very soundly each day, he grew stouter than ever, until his friends hardly knew him when they saw him.

“Solomon Owl is a sight—he’s so fat!” people began to say.

But his size never worried Solomon Owl in the least. When he became too big for his doorway in the haystack, it was a simple matter to make the opening larger—much simpler than it would have been to make himself _smaller_. And that was another reason why he was delighted with his new home.

At last, however, something happened to put an end to his lazy way of living. One day the sound of men’s voices awakened him, when he was having a good nap in the haystack. And he felt his bedroom quiver as if an earthquake had shaken it.

Scrambling to his doorway and peeping slyly out, Solomon saw a sight that made him very angry. A hayrack stood alongside the stack; and on it stood Farmer Green and his hired man. Each had a pitchfork in his hands, with which he tore great forkfuls of hay off the stack and piled it upon the wagon.

Solomon Owl knew then that his fine hiding place was going to be spoiled. As soon as the horses had pulled the load of hay away, with Farmer Green and the hired man riding on top of it, Solomon Owl crept out of his snug bedroom and hurried off to the woods.

He was so fat that it was several days before he could squeeze inside his old home in the hollow hemlock. And for the time being he had to sit on a limb and sleep in the daylight as best he could.

But to his surprise, Reddy Woodpecker troubled him no more. Reddy had drummed so hard on Solomon’s door, in the effort to awake him when he wasn’t there, that Aunt Polly Woodchuck told him he would ruin his bill, if he didn’t look out. And since the warning thoroughly alarmed him, Reddy stopped visiting the hemlock grove.

In time Solomon Owl grew to look like himself again. And people never really knew just what had happened to him. But they noticed that he always hooted angrily whenever anybody mentioned Farmer Green’s name.

THE END