When the two days were up Tiny had quite regained his health. Great preparations had been made for a jubilee. A grand banquet, given by the mayor and other high officials, was to be held in the hollow of a big tree.

When Tiny stepped out upon the little rustic veranda in front of his home, he observed that the branches of the tree below him were thronged with squirrels of all colors and of all walks in life.

“Hurrah for Tiny Redsquirrel!” they shouted. “Welcome, deliverer of Squirreltown! Three cheers for the noblest and bravest squirrel of Animal Kingdom! A speech! A speech!”

Strange to say, instead of being embarrassed, Tiny became overwhelmed by a feeling of importance. There was all Squirreltown at his feet, including the mayor and Billy Foxsquirrel, the noted whistler. Tiny bowed very stiffly, while the squirrels at the tops of their voices shouted lustily. He looked down upon them just as the wise owl prophet had gazed at him.

“Fellow citizens,” he began, “I thank you for the honor you do me. I see many faces before me that show appreciation for what I have done to rescue our city from the bears. I choose to do all I can to help you.

“The mayor invited me to make a speech to you. At the time, I knew that I could not prepare one as well as he, but I threw myself into the task and did the best I could. I am glad that this public reception has drawn so many of you to this place.

“You have given me great happiness. Our beautiful city has grown very dear to me. I am glad that I was driven all round the world, for I learned many things that I will teach you. I have become much wiser since I have traveled, and have learned much that you do not know. I—”

But in the midst of his grand eloquence, Tiny was interrupted. As he stood beating the air with his little paws, trying to impress his hearers, there came a flapping of wings overhead.

His terrified hearers fled in all directions, but before he could escape he was seized and borne high into the air—up, up amongst the tree-tops.

He was too much frightened to cry out. He could only wait until the dreadful creature that held him in his clutches should set him free. His blood almost froze in his veins. He wondered what he should do if his frail limbs were broken, or if he should be cast down in some lonely place to perish. Perhaps he would be eaten. His heart fell within him.

After traveling for some time in this unusual and uncomfortable manner, he found himself in a nest of great size, with the owl prophet staring at him with big yellow eyes.

Although he was in a quiver of fright, like many other small creatures, he did not wish to appear concerned, so he smiled feebly and said:

“Hello!”

“How dare you be so bold?” cried the owl in a dry, unnatural voice. “Do you think I am a telephone?”

“Pardon me,” said Tiny weakly. “My grammar is very bad.”

“Grammar is never bad,” corrected the owl. “It is your English that is bad.”

“But why did you take me away from dear old Squirreltown?” wailed Tiny.

“To teach you the lesson of humility,” replied the owl prophet. “I have flown all the way to Squirreltown and back here to keep you from disgracing yourself. I am glad that I went. To see little Tiny Redsquirrel, puffed with vanity, frisking about with his little paws and bushy tail, lecturing to the old citizens of Squirreltown, was enough to make a wise owl laugh. What do you suppose the mayor thought of you?”

“I don’t know,” replied Tiny, ashamed of himself in spite of his excitement. “I fear that I was very pompous; but then I had delivered Squirreltown from the bears, and I thought I had a right to be bold. You see, the mayor intended to have me for supper.”

“If you complain any more, I myself will have you for supper,” declared the owl, with no pity whatever. “I suppose you mean that the mayor intended to entertain you at supper, for it is not likely that he would wish to eat you.”

Tiny stared in bewilderment. He could not understand all the odd sayings of the prophet, but, nevertheless, he corrected himself by saying:

“The mayor invited me to eat supper with him.”

“Well, he will have all the more to eat without you, and will not have to listen to any more of your speeches,” snapped the owl. “Which one of those squirrels was the mayor?”

“The large one with the sleek fur. I have often been told that the mayor looks like I do,” replied Tiny, his new vanity again appearing.

“To be sure he does,” retorted the owl, with a laugh. “I, too, look like you do.”

Tiny again stared in astonishment. He could see no points of resemblance between himself and the owl.

“A bee looks like you do,” continued the prophet. “A bear looks like you do; so does a weasel, an elephant, a hyena, a jay bird, and a loon; even a monkey looks like you do.”

“You are jesting with me,” protested Tiny, beginning to be vexed.

“All animals look like you do, because they look with their eyes just as you do,” said the owl, with another distracting screech.

“Oh, I see,” said Tiny, good-naturedly. “I should have said that the mayor looks like me. It was incorrect for me to say that the mayor looks like I do.”

“Quite so,” said the owl, less harshly. “You are a bright little creature, and I am going to see that your wish for knowledge is granted. You felt very important an hour ago, when you tried to make a public speech before the oldest citizens of Squirreltown; but now you see how little you know. I am going to take you to Beaver Creek, where you may complete your education. Very few animals of the wood know of this school, and only the ablest ones are admitted to it. When you have graduated, you may go back to Squirreltown. Perhaps by that time you will be able to make a modest speech before your fellow squirrels.”

“I really want an education,” replied Tiny, with enthusiasm. “The schools at Squirreltown are not very good, and very few squirrels attend them. We are such nervous creatures, and care more for play than for study. But what will my mother do without me?”

“If she is a good mother, she will not stand in the way of your education,” replied the owl. “I will write her a letter which the messenger pigeon, a friend of mine, will carry to her. You must write to her twice a week, and the messenger pigeon will bear the letters to her.”

“I dislike to write letters,” protested Tiny. “It is such stupid work.”

“It is generally a stupid creature that dislikes to write letters,” said the owl severely. “He does not like to write, because he does not know how to write well. In Miss Hare’s School at Beaver Creek, you will be taught how to write correctly; then letter writing will prove to be a great pleasure to you.”

“I am anxious to attend this school, because I want to learn how to read stories and to count,” said Tiny, after a moment of anxious thought.

“You must promise to work hard,” said the owl, earnestly. “You will find pupils at this school from all parts of Animal Kingdom. Miss Hare is a good instructor, but very strict. If you should do anything that would injure one of your classmates, you would be drowned in the creek. Now roll yourself into a little round ball again, for I am ready to start.”

Tiny did as he was commanded. The owl almost encircled him with his long claws, and away they went to a strange land, about which Tiny had never even dreamed.