Plump little Mr. Meadow Mouse wished he had stayed away from Grumpy Weasel's hunting ground. He would have scampered off, had he not known that Grumpy could overtake him before he had made three leaps. So he saw no way out of his trouble, though he could think of nothing less agreeable than trying to slip through a small hole with Grumpy Weasel close at hand, watching him narrowly.
Then all at once Mr. Meadow Mouse had an idea. "You go first!" he said politely. "Go through any hole you choose and then I'll try my luck."
But Grumpy Weasel was too crafty to do that.
"You'd try your luck at running away," he snarled. "You are the one to go first; and we'll have no words about it."
Well, Mr. Meadow Mouse began to shake more than ever.
"Don't you think," he quavered, "that we'd better wait a few days until I'm a bit smaller? I'm afraid I've been overeating lately and I might get stuck in a hole. And of course that would be awkward."
"Ha, ha!" Grumpy Weasel actually laughed. But it was not what any one could call a hearty, wholesome, cheerful sort of laugh. On the contrary, it sounded very cruel and gloating.
"Hoo, hoo!" Another laugh—this one weird and hollow—boomed out from the hemlock tree just above Mr. Meadow Mouse's head.
He jumped, in spite of himself—did Mr. Meadow Mouse. And so, too, did Grumpy Weasel. Both of them leaped for the old stone wall. And each flashed into a crevice between the stones, though Grumpy Weasel was ever so much the quicker of the two. They knew Solomon Owl's voice too well to mistake his odd laughter.
"What's your hurry, gentlemen?" Solomon called to them.
Mild Mr. Meadow Mouse made no reply. But from Grumpy Weasel's hiding place an angry hiss told Solomon Owl that one of them, at least, had heard his question.
"Come out!" said Solomon Owl. "Don't be shy! I've dined already."
Well, that made the two in the wall feel somewhat bolder. And soon they ventured to peep out and gaze at Solomon, to see whether he looked like a person who had just enjoyed a good meal.
"You're not as hollow as you sound, I hope," Grumpy Weasel remarked with some suspicion in his tone.
As for Mr. Meadow Mouse, he wouldn't dream of making so rude a remark.
"It's a fine evening and I hope you're feeling happy," he piped.
"Oh, very! Very!" said Solomon Owl solemnly.
Mr. Meadow Mouse was a trusting sort of chap. He was all ready to leave his cranny. But Grumpy Weasel was not yet satisfied.
"Which one of us are you answering?" he demanded of Solomon.
"Him!" said Solomon.
"Did you say, 'Ahem?'" Grumpy Weasel wanted to know.
"No, no!" Solomon assured him. "I said, 'him.' I was answering your friend."
Grumpy Weasel made a wry face, as if he did not care to have anybody speak of Mr. Meadow Mouse as a friend of his. And he did not quit the stone wall until he had seen Mr. Meadow Mouse venture forth in safety.
"Just by accident I overheard your remarks a few minutes ago," Mr. Owl explained. "I'd like to watch this hole-crawling contest. And I'll stay here and be the umpire—and see that there's fair play."