“Who-ooo-o-o, who-ooo-o-o,” he quavered, over and over again, and then before the last long “who-ooo-o-o” had fairly died away, away off somewhere over the tops of the tall pines came back an answering call, another “who-ooo,” and Solomon heard and recognized it as it came nearer and nearer.
So, unfurling his soft, moth-like wings Solomon flew off in the direction of the familiar call, and was soon lost in the darkness of the forest. Thus did Solomon return to his home and kindred in the knot-hole of the sycamore tree, and never after that did he stay out all night, or until daylight, and thereafter he became known to all the little wild dwellers of the woods as a very wise owl.
