“After this, for a time, there was perfect peace in the house, the peace of mutual aversion.  Hosts and guests ignored each other scrupulously.  But after a while a family was born to the Little Villager, a litter of absurd, blind, tiny whimperers, all heads and hungry mouths.  The two owls were immensely interested at once, but their efforts to show their interest were met by such an astonishing display of ferocity on the part of both the Little Villager and his mate that they discreetly withdrew their advances and once more kept strictly to themselves.  They knew their business, these owls; and they knew they would lose nothing in the long run by a little temporary forbearance.  They were well aware, from past experience with prairie dogs, that the vigilance of the happy parents would relax in course of time, and that all the while the little ones, growing larger and plumper every day, would be getting better worth the interest of an appreciative owl.

“The event proved they were right.  As the days went by, and the young ones grew lively and independent, the Little Villager and his mate grew less and less anxious about them.  Their soft eyes now wide open, they would leave the nest and wander about the burrow, in spite of all that their mother or their father (whichever happened to be in charge at the time) could do to prevent them.  There were so many of them, moreover, that it was quite impossible to keep an eye on them all at once.

“Late one afternoon, in that debatable time when the owls in their corner were just beginning to wake up, two of the youngsters ran over quite near them.  The temptation was irresistible.  There was a light pounce, a light squeak instantly strangled, and one of the youngsters, badly frightened, ran back to the mother.  The other remained, limp and motionless, in the owl’s corner, with a set of steel-like talons clutching it.

“The mother started to the rescue boldly.  But the moment she left the rest of the litter the second owl hopped over toward them.  She paused in an agony of irresolution.  Then she turned and scurried back.  She could not sacrifice all for the sake of one.  But as she gathered the survivors to her she barked and chattered furious defiance at the murderer.  Her clatter brought down the Little Villager himself, and together they hurled all the insults they could think of at the owl, who, however, calmly turned his feathery back upon them and proceeded to devour his easy prey.

“For some days there was renewed vigilance, and the little ones kept close to their parents’ side.  But the memory of a prairie dog, especially of a young prairie dog, is distinctly short.  Soon there was more wandering from the nest, and then a lot of childish racing about the floor of the burrow.  Again a youngster went too near the owls’ corner and remained there.  This time there was no fuss about it, because the slaughter was accomplished quite