It was the owl's evil doing, he argued all the 



way home. "Wen ol' Miss Owl say 'Stay in'— 



no use : 



'Simmons sweet, 'simmons red, 

 Ain't no possum leave his bed. 



All de dogs in Mount Zion won't fin' no pos- 

 sum -out dis night." 



No ; it was not Calamity's fault : it was Miss 

 Owl's. 



We were turning in back of the barn when 

 there came a sudden yelp, sharp as a pistol-shot, 

 and Calamity darted through Uncle Jethro's 

 legs, almost upsetting him, making straight for 

 the yard. At the same moment I caught sight 

 of a large creature hurrying with a wabbly, 

 uncertain gait along the ridge-pole of the hen- 

 house. 



It was a possum— as big as a coon. He was 

 already half-way down the side of the coop ; but 

 Calamity was below him, howling like mad. 



Uncle Jethro nearly unjointed himself. Be- 

 fore the frightened animal had time to faint, the 

 triumphant hunter was jouncing him up and 

 down inside the sack, and promising the bones 

 and baking-pan to Calamity. 

 [18] 



