"I'm not taking any risks," I answered, and it was with greatest
mildness that we sauntered up Paradise Ridge and started down the other
side. And as I drove along carefully my mind began to work out into the
byways of the situation. I don't see how my athletic and executive
generation is going to do its appointed work in its day if we are going
to go on using the same set of social conventions that tied up our
mothers. As we neared the cross-road that turned off to Sam's
brier-patch I began to wonder how long it would take me to rush back
into Hayesboro, bundle mother into Redwheels, and get back to the cows.
It was just a quarter after nine o'clock, but I knew she would be sleepy
and would have to be forced to come with me very gently and slowly.
Still, I didn't see how I could go on out into the woods with only Sam
and the Butterball which was wheezing out cow conversation to Sam that I
was intensely interested in and ought to have been listening to rather
than wasting force on foolish proprieties. I was about to turn and take
Sam's advice on the matter when he suddenly laid his fingers on my arm
and said:

"Stop a minute, Betty. What's that roosting on that stone wall?" And as
he spoke he peered out toward a strange, huge bird sitting by the side
of the road.

I stopped just about opposite the object and Sam sprang out.

"You, Byrd Crittenden, where did you come from?" I heard Sam demand of
the huddled bundle as he lifted it off the wall. It was attired in
scanty night-drawers and a short coat, and shivered as it stood, first
on one foot and then on the other.

"I ain't a-going to stay in no country with a hoot-owl, Sam. I'm going