“‘Who?’ said the owl. ‘Toto,’ said the boy.”
“Toto,” said the boy shortly. “Let me pass, please. I’m in a hurry.”
“You’re late!” said the owl severely.
“I know it,” replied Toto. “That’s why I asked you to let me pass. I don’t want to talk to you, Mrs. Growler, and I don’t suppose you want to talk to me.”
“Whit!” cried Mrs. Growler (for it was no other than that redoubtable female). “Don’t give me any of your impudence, sir! What do you mean by coming into our wood after dark, and then insulting me? Here, Hoots! Flappy! Horner! Come here, all of you! Here’s this imp of a boy who’s always making mischief here with that thieving raccoon. Let us give him a lesson, and teach him to stay where he belongs, and not come spying and prying into our wood!”
Immediately a rushing sound was heard from all sides, and half-a-dozen owls came hooting and screaming around our hero.
Toto held his ground manfully, though he saw that the odds were greatly against him. One owl was all very well; but seven or eight owls, all armed with powerful beaks and claws, and all angry, were quite another matter, especially as the darkness, which exactly suited them, made it difficult for him to tell in which direction he should beat his retreat, supposing he were able to beat it at all.
He set his back against a tree, and faced the hooting, flapping crowd, whose great round eyes glared fiercely at him.
“I’ve never done any harm to any of you,” he said boldly. “I’ve never thrown stones at you, and I’ve never taken more than one egg at a time from your nests. You have always hated me, Mother Growler, because I am a friend of Coon; and you’re afraid of Coon, you know you are. Come, let me go home quietly, and I’ll promise not to come into your part of the wood again.