"Well," Turkey Proudfoot retorted, "no matter what he says, the joke's on him. I wasn't coming back here to-morrow night. I don't like sleeping in the woods and having my rest disturbed by hoots and whistles."
"I suppose you don't," Simon[p. 102] Screecher admitted. "And I shouldn't care to try to sleep at the farmyard in the daytime and he waked by gobbles."
"I wish you would come down to the farmyard," Turkey Proudfoot told him. "You'd drive old dog Spot half crazy with your whistling."
Simon Screecher looked thoughtful.
"No!" he said. "Farmer Green might drive me half crazy with his old shotgun." He yawned as he spoke. "I don't see what's making me so sleepy," he remarked. "I must be going home."
"Don't hurry!" Turkey Proudfoot begged him. "I'm beginning to enjoy your company—though I can't exactly say why. And I'd like to gabble with you for an hour or two. I don't see what makes me so wakeful."
Just then a familiar sound greeted Turkey Proudfoot's ears. It was a crow.[p. 103] It was the rooster's crow, way down at the farmyard.
"Why, it's almost dawn!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "I didn't know the night was so nearly gone. It's no wonder I couldn't sleep. The dawn of another day always makes one wide awake."
"It always makes one sleepy, you mean," Simon Screecher corrected him.
Now, Turkey Proudfoot always grew angry when anybody corrected him in any way. And he flew into a rage.