“What kind of stops does he use?” asked the owl, much amused.
Tiny stared at him in wonderment.
“I suppose you mean that he is staying at the Beech Tree Inn,” said the owl. “I hope you have enjoyed your visit in my castle. If you will stay a while longer I will sing. I have a most beautiful voice. I can sing twice as loud as a village of sparrows.”
The little red squirrel did not insist upon hearing the owl prophet sing, for that would have been bad manners.
With a polite goodnight, he scurried down the tree to a clump of hazel bushes, where he hid himself as securely as possible. He slept very little, for he feared that the wise owl might fly about in his sleep and possibly devour him.
CHAPTER V.
The sunbeams shine through the boughs of the trees and the winds rustle gently. The dewdrops glitter on the grass. The brook bounds joyously along. The birds sing gaily and the little animals of the wood come forth to listen to the sweet music. The wild flowers open their pretty cups.
Now the forest is ringing with glad shouts and songs. The sunbeams are growing brighter. The winds are dying down and the dewdrops are passing away. The brook is bounding along more joyously. The birds are singing more gaily. The little animals are running hither and thither. The flowers are spreading their pretty cups wide open to catch the sunlight. At last Tiny is waking.