“All the rest of the day the Little Villager and his companion were extremely discontented.  Their burrow was a very roomy and comfortable one, but it was spoiled for them by the presence of those two moon-eyed, hook-beaked, solemn persons sitting side by side in the opposite corner.  So they spent most of their time outside on the hillock, gossiping about it to their neighbors, who were extremely interested and full of suggestions, but showed no inclination whatever to come and help turn the intruders out.  That was a thing which had never been attempted in their village, and the prairie dogs were not noted for their initiative.  In learning to get together and live in villages they had apparently exhausted it all.  They were always ready to chatter, from morning to night, about anything, and protest against it, and declare that it must not be permitted, but they always shirked the bother of united action, even to suppress the most dangerous and destructive of nuisances.

“When evening came, however, they had the house to themselves.  The owls, getting lively as the sunset colors faded from the sky, scuttled forth and sat up side by side on the top of the hillock.  As soon as it was full night, and the stars had come out clear and large in the deeply crystalline sky, they began hovering hither and thither on their wide, soundless wings, hunting the tiny prairie mice, which swarmed among the hillocks after dark.

“While they were thus pleasantly occupied, the Little Villager and his companion had an idea.  It was not a very usual thing with them, and they hastened to act upon it lest it should get away.  They proceeded to block up their entrance tunnel about three feet from the door.  They packed the earth hard, and made a good job of it, and flattered themselves that their guests would not get in in a hurry, even if they were pretty good burrowers themselves.  Then at the extreme opposite corner of their central chamber they tunneled a new passageway, which brought them out quite on the other side of the hillock.  This done, they felt very pleased with themselves, and settled down for a well-earned sleep, curled up in a furry ball together.

“At daybreak the owls came home.  Confidently they ducked their big, round heads and dived down the old entrance, only to be brought up with a bump when they had gone about three feet.  Out they came in a rage, fluffing their feathers and snapping their beaks, and stood on each side of the hole to talk the affair over.  First, one and then the other reentered to investigate.  They found it quite inexplicable.  They felt sure this was the way they had previously entered—­so sure, in fact, that again and again they tried it, only growing more and more puzzled and indignant with each attempt.  Finally they came to the conclusion that they must have made some mistake.  They scuttled solemnly round the hillock, and came upon the new entrance.  Ah, of course, they had been mistaken.  Their indignation vanished.  They scurried in cheerfully, one hard upon the other’s tail, and took up their place in their adopted corner.  The Little Villager and his mate opened disgusted eyes upon them for a second, then went to sleep again, relinquishing all thought of further protest.