"Well, I'm not!" Simon Screecher informed him. "And you ought to see my[p. 98] cousin, Solomon Owl. He's a terrible fellow."
Turkey Proudfoot's wishbone seemed to be trying to come up into his month. At least, he had to swallow several times before he could answer.
"I'd like to see your cousin," he replied, "but not to-night."
He had scarcely finished speaking when a loud call came booming through the woods: "Whooo-whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo, to-whoo-ah!"
"Who's that?" gasped Turkey Proudfoot.
"That's my cousin, Solomon Owl," Simon Screecher explained. "And he's not far away."
"My goodness!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "If he's as big as his voice he must be enormous."
"He's twice my size," said Simon[p. 99] Screecher. "Not nearly as big as you are, of course! But you ought to see his beak. I do believe he could tear you into—"
"I don't want to see him to-night," Turkey Proudfoot interrupted. "I hope he won't come this way. Go and find him. And tell him to meet me here to-morrow night."