The Bad Little Owls

By John Breck

"The Bad Little Owls" by John Breck. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Nov 5, 2021
• ISBN: 4066338091819

Book preview

John Breck

The Bad Little Owls

Published by Good Press, 2022

[e-mail]

EAN 4066338091819

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I THE WOODSFOLK LEARN THE RULES ABOUT FIRE

CHAPTER II CHAIK JAY CARRIES BAD NEWS

CHAPTER III MRS. OWL INVITES KILLER THE WEASEL TO THE WOODS AND FIELDS

CHAPTER IV FUR AND FEATHERS PLAN A CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER V KILLER THE WEASEL MAKES A PLAN LIKEWISE

CHAPTER VI A PLAN TO FOIL THE ENEMY

CHAPTER VII THE CLEVERNESS OF CHAIK JAY

CHAPTER VIII KILLER FINDS THE POND MIGHTY LONESOME

CHAPTER IX TROUBLE COMES HOME TO THE BAD LITTLE OWLS

CHAPTER X THE BIG RAIN PUTS AN END TO EVIL DOINGS FOR A TIME

CHAPTER I

THE WOODSFOLK LEARN THE RULES ABOUT FIRE

Table of Contents

Take to the water, quick! shouted Doctor Muskrat. Climb a tree! advised Chatter Squirrel, balancing on the tip end of a limb. And they had the Woodsfolk so excited they didn’t know what to do. Most of them couldn’t climb if they wanted to, and mighty few of them like to swim. So those who were there tried to run away, and those who weren’t came to see what was going on. Tommy Peele’s woods were just alive with scuttling and fluttering. All because Louie Thomson had brought a lantern to light his party with. He had brought all sorts of things to eat, too, and he planned to sleep all night in the Woods and Fields, in a tent made of one of his mother’s blankets.

Of course Louie couldn’t think what was the matter with the Woodsfolk. But Tommy Peele’s big furry dog, Watch, who was with him, knew well enough. He sat there with his tongue out, laughing at them.

When Tad Coon saw Watch laughing he got over being frightened, and then he was curious. He waded out of the pond and came over to look at the little sputtery flame dancing inside the lantern. Of course he thought it was a bug. Most everything that hasn’t leaves or fur or feathers is a bug to Tad Coon. Bugs do themselves up in very funny packages sometimes before they’re all through hatching. He put out his handy-paw to catch it.

Look out! barked Watch. Let it alone! But he didn’t say it before Tad had touched the glass with his little wet claw. Before he could jerk it back the water began sizzling and he got a bit of a burn. Ow, ow! howled poor Tad, dancing around with his paw in his mouth. It’s a buzzer with a hot tail. (He meant a paper wasp.) Ow, ow! he sobbed. It bit me! So that scared all the Woodsfolk all over again.

Doctor Muskrat knew all about the fires that sometimes burn up the marshes, but Tad didn’t, because he’s always gone to sleep for the winter before they begin. Nibble Rabbit knew something about them, because Watch tried to explain when he told what was happening to Grandpop Snapping Turtle. (Tommy Peele’s mother was cooking him.) But nobody ever dreamed Stripes Skunk would understand.

Stripes did know. He knew the rule of tents because his people were friendly with the Indians just like cats are friendly with us housefolk. They hunted around the campfires to catch creepy-crawley things. He didn’t know the difference between Louie’s blanket and a real tent, nor between Louie’s lantern and a real campfire because he’d never seen them. So he was just as pleased as though this was a real camp and Louie a real Indian. Come along, he called to his kittens. This is the rule of fires: When the men aren’t walking around them you can lie down three tail lengths from the light and get your whiskers warm. So down they lay. And weren’t they just conceited because all the other Woodsfolk had their eyes popped out, staring at them.

All this time, Tad was sitting right squash on his bushy tail in the edge of the pond, using all his other three paws to hold the poor burned one in his mouth—because it hurt him so dreadfully—at least he thought it did. Tad Coon’s always thinking he’s killed when he’s hardly more than mussed his fur. (He made an awful fuss the time Grandpop Snapping Turtle nipped his tail, and after all, Grandpop only pulled a couple of hairs out.) Oo-h-ow-h-ow! whimpered Tad, licking himself between each sniffle.

Let’s see, let’s see! said