Then Solomon sat up and listened. He heard a scratching sound. And soon he
saw a plump figure crawl right up into his tree-top.

It was Fatty Coon!

“What are you doing here?” Solomon Owl asked in a low voice, which was not
any too pleasant.

“I’m out for an airing,” Fatty answered. “Beautiful night—isn’t it?”

But Solomon Owl was not interested in the weather. “I don’t suppose you’ve
come down here to get a chicken, have you?” he inquired.

Fatty Coon seemed greatly surprised at the question.

“Why—no!” he exclaimed. “But now that you speak of it, it reminds me that
Farmer Green’s saving a pullet for me. He was heard to say not long ago
that he would like to catch me taking one of his hens. So he must have one
for me. And I don’t want to disappoint him.”

At first Solomon Owl didn’t know what answer to make. But at last he
turned his head toward Fatty.

“Why don’t you go and get your pullet now?” he asked.

“There’s that man down below, with the glaring eyes—” said Fatty Coon.
“I’ve been waiting around here for quite a long time and he hasn’t looked
away from the chicken house even once.... Do you know him?”

“No! And I don’t want to!” said Solomon Owl.