preferred the rattler, to whose methods of administering fate they had
grown so accustomed that they could regard them with something like
philosophy, especially where only a neighborhood was concerned. But
the hawk's attack was so abrupt and violent as to be upsetting to the
nerves of the whole village.

"When the hawk had finished his meal and wiped his beak on the hard
earth he flew off; and long before he was out of sight all the furry
householders were out on top of their hillocks and chattering at the
tops of their voices about the affair. The Little Villager himself,
having been first to give the alarm, was particularly excited and
important. But even he managed to calm himself down after a while.
And then, feeling hungry from excess of emotion, he descended from his
hillock and fell to nibbling grass stems.

"He had been but a few minutes at this engrossing occupation when from
the door of a nearby burrow popped suddenly a small brown owl. The
bird appeared with a haste which seemed to ruffle its dignity
considerably. It was followed at once by its mate. The two blinked in
the strong light, and turned to peer down the hole from which they
emerged, as if expecting to be followed. They were snapping their
strong hooked beaks like castanets, and hissing indignantly. But
nothing more came out of the hole. They glared about them for several
minutes with their immense, round, fiercely bright eyes. Then, lifting
themselves like blown thistledown, with one waft of their broad, downy
wings they floated over to the door of the Little Villager's burrow.
They looked at it. They looked at the Little Villager where he sat
holding a half-nibbled grass stem between his paws. They snapped their
beaks once more, with angry decision, and with two or three awkward,
scuttling steps, like a parrot walking on the floor of his cage, they