were still looking about them, wondering which way to go, there was a great whirring of wings, and something dark and huge swept down on them from the sky, striking at Bulka and rolling him over and over on the ground.
Terror seized them; Jensina gave a shriek, but before Poor Cecco could spring to the rescue Bulka had picked himself up again, and there on the grass before them stood an enormous owl, rolling his eyes and looking exactly like a sulky cat.
“How dare you!” cried Poor Cecco.
“How dare I?” exclaimed the owl. “How about him? What business has any one to go about looking like a rabbit? I couldn’t tell! And besides, I didn’t hurt him.”
“You did!” squealed Bulka, finding his voice again after fright. “You p-pinched me!”
“Cry baby!” said the owl, contemptuously. He rolled his green eyes at them. “What are you doing in this field? You aren’t real rabbits, any of you! Let me tell you at once, that if you think you can come here under false pretences, and put other people out of business, you’re mistaken! I’m the Field-Marshal. I won’t stand any nonsense!”
“We are travellers,” said Jensina shrilly, thrusting herself forward. “We came by automobile, and we have just as much right to be here as you. We are looking for a place to spend the night.”
“Spend it or keep it,” returned the owl. “It’s all one
