THE SLEET STORM


It was winter. And for several days a strong south wind had swept up
Pleasant Valley. That—as Solomon Owl knew very well—that meant a thaw was
coming. He was not sorry, because the weather had been bitterly cold.

Well, the thaw came. And the weather grew so warm that Solomon Owl could
stay out all night without once feeling chilled. He found the change so
agreeable that he strayed further from home than was his custom. Indeed,
he was far away on the other side of Blue Mountain at midnight, when it
began to rain.

Now, that was not quite so pleasant. But still Solomon did not mind
greatly. It was not until later that he began to feel alarmed, when he
noticed that flying did not seem so easy as usual.

Solomon had grown heavy all at once—and goodness knows it was not because
he had overeaten, for food was scarce at that season of the year.
Moreover, Solomon’s wings were strangely stiff. When he moved them they
_crackled_.

“It must be my joints,” he said to himself. “I’m afraid this wetting has
given me rheumatism.” So he started home at once—though it was only
midnight. But the further he went, the worse he felt—and the harder it was
to fly.

“I’ll have to rest a while,” he said to himself at last. So he alighted on
a limb; for he was more tired than he had ever been in all his life.