“He’ll go directly,” promised the guide. “He’s just trying to remember the way home.”
At last some jays discovered him and at once began a furious uproar. They flew to the branches near him, and scolded until they attracted others of their kind. The owl watched them with warlike eyes and snapped its beak threateningly.
“Poor old ‘Snow Ball,’ I’m afraid your troubles have commenced,” said Ed.
The jays began darting at him and flying at his face. Finally, hissing angrily, “Snow Ball” took wing and flapped silently away into the forest.
“Good-by, old boy!” called Ed.
“And good luck!” added George.
Ben told them the owl would soon depart to its summer home in the far north. But by falling into their hands it had fared better than it might had it been obliged to provide for itself during the long, cold weeks of winter.
A balmy south breeze set in late in the afternoon, and that night it thawed. They heard the drip of melting snow from the eaves of the cabin as they lay in their bunk.
“I’m glad it didn’t come off cold after we turned old ‘Snow Ball’ out,” said George. “Although I don’t suppose it would have bothered him any if it had.”
“No, I don’t believe so; but I’m glad it’s warmer for his first night back in the woods.”