"Who, who are you?" said the Owl. "And what are you doing at my door?" "Please, sir," said Hortense, "we want to get down to the ground and cannot." "Fly down," said the Owl. "We can't fly," said Hortense. "How absurd," said the Owl. "You shouldn't climb trees then." "We had to, to get away from the Little People," helped Andy. "So that's it," said the Owl. "They are a nuisance, I'll admit, spoiling all the hunting with their songs and dancing. I'm inclined to help you. What will you give me if I carry you down?" Andy and Hortense searched their pockets and turned out a piece of string, a top, five jacks, a pocketknife, and two not very clean handkerchiefs. "Those are of no use to me," said the Owl. "We have nothing else except some pieces of cooky," bargained Hortense. "Very well," the Owl grumbled, "I'll take them--though it's not enough." Hortense gave him her cooky--all but a tiny piece which she saved to eat when she wanted to grow big again. The Owl swallowed it in one gulp. "Very good cooky," he commented, "though I should prefer a little more molasses. Get on my back." Hortense obeyed, and the Owl spread his great wings. Out and out he soared and then came gently to earth, and Hortense slipped off his back. "Thanks very much," said she. "Don't mention it," said the Owl and, spreading his wings, soared away into the tree. A moment later Andy was beside her. [Illustration: Owl spread his great wings and carried Andy to earth.] "If you cross the strawberry field and the raspberry patch," the Owl suggested, "you'll come to a path that goes by the house. If you can get by that unseen, perhaps you can escape." "What house?" Hortense asked. The Owl ruffled out his feathers fiercely. "The house where that miserable Cat lives with the bright thing," said he. The Owl flew away and Andy and Hortense started to run across the strawberry field, stopping now and then to eat the ripe, sweet berries. In the middle of the field they noticed something black. Its presence frightened them, and they feared to go close to it. However, it did not move for some moments, and cautiously they drew nearer. It was Lowboy, fast asleep. Hortense shook him and he opened his eyes. "Get up and come home," said Hortense. But Lowboy would not move. "I've eaten so many strawberries that I can't budge," said he. "Then we'll have to leave you," Hortense replied. "There are worse fates than fifteen years of such strawberries," said Lowboy. "Perhaps, though, I'll get away sometime and find the road home." "Where's Highboy?" Hortense demanded. "Over there in the raspberry patch," said Lowboy, "but I fear he's in as bad shape as I am." And so it proved, for when they came upon Highboy in the middle of the patch he was seated on the ground, lazily picking berries from the stems about his head. "Get up and come with us," Hortense commanded. Highboy shook his head.