This was not really snoring, as you easily see, but a natural burst of pride, praise and warning to keep the bogies away. Nevertheless, the hens in their bad temper were no judges of any matter, let alone snoring in the middle of the night. They nudged each other very wisely. They had caught him at last and there were twenty witnesses. One o'clock came and he repeated the same words. The hens were delighted, for they would have their innings in the morning. When morning came, the hens openly twitted the rooster about his snoring. At first he paid little attention to their taunts, but as the day wore on he became very much exasperated. The hens kept their own quarters and refused to have anything to do with him, and he, manlike, was determined to be near them. Whenever he came into their "midst," as they chatted, they just left him there twiddling his fine wings. He was much enraged and gave chase to many of them. Sometimes he almost caught one; but when that was about to happen, the others pitched in and drove him off very much crestfallen. The hens were wise enough that day to stand together. [Illustration: ELEANOR HOWARD.] When all had retired as usual, the hens waited for the rooster to enter their coop. But he did not come. Some suggested that they should go in a body and compel his majesty to come home. He had never before remained out all night, as some husbands do! They had a hard time sleeping that night, for they greatly missed the rooster. But the rooster sat all the while on the back fence vowing vengeance. About three o'clock in the morning, when all was still, one of the hens felt a sharp pain in her breast. She wakened and scrambled to her feet, but was instantly dragged to the floor by a weasel. She screamed and struggled to escape. The other hens joined in the clatter. It was with the greatest difficulty that she escaped with her life. The weasel fled when the noise became pronounced, for he was afraid of a human. The poor hen was terribly wounded. Not a wink of sleep had the hens the remainder of that night, and they were glad when the sun rose. They sought the rooster and told the hard-hearted fellow the awful story of the night raid, but he just opened his mouth and crowed with pleasure. They were indignant and walked off and left him to his laughs. In the afternoon, when all was the quietest in Chickenville, the rooster joined his wives and talked very seriously about what had occurred. "Now," said he in conclusion, "this trouble has been brought about through gossip. You have had your fun and I have had mine. The best thing to do is to let bygones be bygones and all of us turn over a new leaf." The hens unwillingly consented, for the sun was setting and they feared the night. Since then Mr. Rooster has enjoyed great comfort, and whenever the hens begin to gossip he opens his red mouth and screeches "RED PEPPER!" THE MID-EARTH PEOPLE