“Friends, good-night,” he whispered to the forest.
And the trees rustled back, “Good-night, good-night.”
GREAT GRAY OWL
Great Gray Owl sat up in the tree, winking and blinking.
He would turn his head first in one direction, then in another.
Wise old bird! What he could not see with those large glassy eyes of his was hardly worth seeing.
Suddenly he flew to the ground. There, like a brave sentinel, he marched back and forth in front of the cave in which Father Thrift was sleeping.