He hurried away to his house among the hemlocks. And having quickly
settled himself for a good nap, he was soon fast asleep.

That was how Johnnie Green’s jack-o’-lantern kept Tommy Fox and Fatty Coon
and Solomon Owl from taking any chickens on Hallowe’en.





X
A TROUBLESOME WISHBONE


Solomon Owl had pains—sharp pains—underneath his waistcoat. And not
knowing what else to do, he set off at once for Aunt Polly Woodchuck’s
house under the hill, in the pasture, which he had not visited since the
previous fall. Luckily, he found the old lady at home. And quickly he told
her of his trouble.

“What have you been eating?” she inquired.

“I’ve followed your advice. I’ve been eating chickens,” said he—“very
small chickens, because they were all I could get.”

Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who was an herb doctor—and a good one—regarded him
through her spectacles.

“I’m afraid,” said she, “you don’t chew your food properly. Bolting one’s