“Oh, no!” said Benjamin. “I slept soundly until sunset. When I came away
the crickets were chirping. And I was surprised that you hadn’t waked up
yourself.”

“You were gone before midday,” Solomon Owl insisted. And they had
something very like a dispute, while Solomon Owl sat in one tree and
Benjamin Bat hung head downward from another. “I ought to know,” said
Solomon. “I was awake about noon; and I looked everywhere for you.”

“What for?” asked Benjamin.

Naturally, Solomon didn’t like to tell him that he had intended to eat
him. So he looked wise—and said nothing.

“You didn’t look on the ceiling, did you?” Benjamin Bat inquired.

“No, indeed!” Solomon Owl exclaimed.

“Well, that’s where I was, hanging by my feet,” Benjamin Bat informed him.

Solomon Owl certainly was surprised to hear that.

“The idea!” he cried. “You’re a queer one! I never once thought of looking
_on the ceiling_ for a _luncheon_!” He was so astonished that he spoke
before he thought how oddly his remark would sound to another.

When he heard what Solomon Owl said, Benjamin Bat knew at once that
Solomon had meant to eat him. And he was so frightened that he dropped
from the limb to which he was clinging and flew off as fast as he could
go. For once in his life he flew in a straight line, with no zigzags at