"I find it very hard," said the learned watchdog, "to speak well of the rats and the mice."
He was talking with his visitor, Professor Screech Owl, who perched on the peak of the kitchen roof and was engaged with him in a pleasant exchange of views and ideas. The moon was clear and everything was very still. All the world seemed asleep but the owl and the dog, and they were talking of many matters. For Professor Screech Owl was a knowing bird and he had, moreover, the most learned relatives.
"Of course, you know more than I do," Collie Dog hastened to add.
Professor Screech Owl nodded.
"And you may have heard in your travels of something which credits the mice with being other than thieves and rogues. But for my part, I am skeptical of all the good I hear of them."
"There are mice, and there are mice," said the Professor. For this is one of the best ways to open a subject and draw a distinction. "I have rarely inquired into their morals, preferring to take them as I find them. In the matter of one's living one must not be too squeamish. Probably I have eaten moral mice and immoral mice, with indifference. But I have heard that the mice in Belgium are the gentlest and sweetest of creatures. Have you heard of the Belgium mice, Mr. Dog?"
This was the point to which Collie Dog had drawn his visitor with intent. For no matter what subject you brought up, if you passed it over to Professor Screech Owl and showed him the respect and patience which is due to scholarly persons, he would refresh your mind with wonderful facts and you would be vastly improved and informed when he finished. So Collie Dog admitted that he was no book dog, and knew precious little about anything. This was not so, for he knew a great deal about sheep, the pasturing of cows, and the time for getting the mail, and he knew that the buggy meant business, and the surrey meant church, and he knew where his mistress kept the chocolate creams. Also he knew why the cook left, but he never told. But he pretended that blankness of mind which is a humility pleasing to superior students.
Screech Owl stared at the moon as though to recall what he could from his vast store of learning.
"The dates have escaped me," he began, "but it is the nature of the event, not the time which is important.
"Once long ago, as I was told by the great Arctic Owl, who is a sort of cousin of mine, the mice in the city of Ghent entered into a sort of league with the storks. Ghent, as you know, is in Belgium."
This was news to Collie Dog, but he wagged his tail as if to approve. He was glad to know that Ghent was in Belgium, and he wished to seem pleased.
"Don't wag your tail!" Screech Owl spat out at him. "I'm telling you history; I'm not asking you to have a bone. That's no way to act when I'm lecturing!"
Poor Collie Dog wished to laugh, but he only sat still and looked humbly at the conceited little owl on the peak of the barn.
Professor Screech Owl suddenly grew quite himself again, apologized for his agitation, and resumed:
"The storks are a noble lot, and have been renowned in Egypt and on the Continent. They dwell on the chimney-pots, I'm told, or build on the edges of steeples and such. Very proud they are, and given to the practise of medicine. The cranes in the country make great pretense of being cousins of the stork. But we all know the difference,—we who have traveled. Ha! Ha!"
Screech Owl screamed a terrible laugh. Collie Dog, to be polite, joined in; but he stopped short when Screech Owl's feathers began to ruffle up.
"In Ghent, long ago," the Professor went on, "the mice that lived in the barn of the mayor's place were many. They overran it and lived under the very eaves as well as in the cellars. And those nearest the roof became great friends of the storks who dwelt on the gables and chimneys.
"Now, so the story runs, the mayor's barn caught fire. The good lady stork had but just left her nest. The storks, you know, go far out into the country to get their food. I think it very foolish of them to live in the cities. But Mrs. Stork took her chances, as all mothers do when they leave their young ones for any length of time.
"Dr. Stork, the father of this particular family, was away on medical matters, and so the baby was alone. You can imagine what Mrs. Stork felt when she came flying toward the city and saw smoke pouring from the roof of the mayor's barn."
Collie Dog scented the drift of the story, and grew suddenly impatient for the slow Professor to reach the point.
"And was the baby stork burned to death?" he interrupted.
Professor Screech Owl only looked down and cleared his throat.
"The mice," he said, "are credited with singular humanity. They scrambled all around and in and out of the nest, and at last they grabbed the baby stork and dragged him down to the edge of the roof.”
"THEY GRABBED THE BABY STORK AND DRAGGED HIM DOWN TO THE EDGE OF THE ROOF"
"And then?" exclaimed Collie Dog, now really excited. "What then? Did he fall off and get killed after all?"
"The roofs of the houses in Ghent are not very high," came from Professor Screech Owl, in the deepest of tones, "but they are very steep. A plank was leaning against the wall and they slid him down on that, so that he reached the ground in safety.
"Since then the storks give all the feathers they can spare to the mice; and now these frisky creatures sleep on down. That is, the mice in Belgium do."
Professor Screech Owl came to a sudden stop and watched Collie Dog. Seeing his audience was profoundly impressed, he then went on:
"Those who were witnesses to this rescue say that Mrs. Stork's excitement was terrible. She went to Egypt for a year to recover her nerves—"
An unearthly screech pierced the night. The Professor and Collie Dog jumped in surprise. Old Tom Cat, who had listened to all this as he sat on the door-step in the dark, was trying to laugh. He was also making remarks about owls and mice in general. But just then the master of the house threw open the window and expressed his views.
Collie Dog retired quickly to his kennel to think over this wonderful chapter of history; and wise Professor Screech Owl flew silently from the peak of the barn to his nest in the hickory woods.
