Just then a great pounding and hammering shook the big tree.
“I wonder who that can be?” thought the bad owl, peeping out of the window.
“Oh, I hope it’s mother with the brave Policeman Dog,” cried the poor frightened little bunny boy.
“Keep quiet,” whispered Hooty Tooty Owl, with a scowl. “If you make any noise I’ll twist off your head.”
Dear, oh, dear! that is a dreadful thing to hear from a big owl when you’re only a little bunny boy rabbit.
All of a sudden the pounding sounded again, only louder than before.
“Oh, I hope it’s mother,” thought the little rabbit, as he cowered and shivered in the corner of the wicked old owl’s sitting room. “Oh, I hope mother knows where I am.”
The next minute there came a tremendous crash—the Old Tree House shook from top to bottom.
“Rats and mice!” exclaimed the wicked owl. “Somebody means business. I guess I’ll look out of the attic window,” and the old feathered robber climbed up to the garret of his tree house, ’way up near the topmost branches, and peeped down.
At the foot of the tree stood poor Little Lady Love, the bunny boy’s mother, and the brave Policeman Dog.