The creepy noise stopped, and for several moments there was silence. When next I heard the cry, it was coming from the right.
I sat up in alarm. Had I heard two owls? My movement had awakened Grandpa.
In a sleepy voice, he asked, “What’s the matter? Can’t you sleep? What are you sitting up like that for?”
“Grandpa, I heard two screech owls,” I said. Grunting and mumbling, he sat up.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he said, “You heard two screech owls. Why, that’s nothing.
I’ve heard two— oh, I see. You’re thinking of the bad-luck superstition.
There’s nothing to that; nothing at all. Now you lie down and go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
I tried hard to fall asleep, but couldn’t. I couldn’t get the owls out of my mind. Had I really heard two? Were we going to have bad luck?
Surely nothing bad could happen. Not on such a wonderful hunt. I found peace in my mind by telling myself that the owl had changed trees.
Yes, that was it. He had simply flown out of one tree to another.
The next morning, while having breakfast, Grandpa started kidding me about the screech owls.
“I wish you could have caught one of those owls last night,” he said. “We could have boiled him in our coffee pot.
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