As Poppy slept, Mr. Ocax flew in to settle on a branch along the edge of Dimwood. From deep within the foliage he stared furiously at the owl on the barn.
CHAPTER 17
A Surprising Conversation
POPPY WOKE REFRESHED. For a moment she just lay still, luxuriating in her discoveries. She imagined telling her family what a phony Mr. Ocax was. What a delicious moment. Yes, it was time to return home.
Realizing that she was very hungry, Poppy first treated herself to a big meal, eating only the plumpest corn kernels. Hadn’t she deserved them?
Gradually she ate her way over to the dirt road that ran alongside Dimwood Forest. With her mouth full and her belly tight, she gazed across at the wall of pine and fir. She had feared it before. Now, knowing it, she recalled only its dark beauty, its deep fascination.
The forest made her think of Ereth and her promise. How was she going to get him the salt? She still had no idea. Then and there she vowed that once she got home, she would return, maybe this time with cousin Basil. Perhaps the two of them could find a way.
Poppy thought about Mr. Ocax, too. Wouldn’t it be fun to tell him what she had discovered? The image of it made her grin. The liar! The bully! It was while she was thinking about him that she spied him.
Mr. Ocax was perched deep within the foliage on a small tree right by the edge of the forest. If it had not been for the slanting rays of the sun, Poppy might never have noticed. It was the light of his glowing eyes that caught her attention.
Poppy crept forward. When she came near the row of corn closest to the forest, she looked up again.
A moody Mr. Ocax was staring at the barn across the field. He kept moving his head about, back, forward, side to side, hissing and clacking his beak. Sometimes his black talons kneaded the branch with nervous tension. At other times he ruffled his feathers, lifted his wings, let his head sink lower. Poppy could tell he was miserable, sulking.
She had to marvel at how different he appeared from the time she’d seen him on his watching tree in the rain. All that glaring and hissing. He’s just a frightened bully! she said to herself with jubilation. She had to slap a paw over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. What fun it would be to humiliate him. Just the idea of it brought a feeling of power.
Unable to resist teasing him, she called out, “Mr. Ocax!”
The owl, taken by surprise, looked up, down, around.
“Here!” Poppy cried. “In the corn. It’s me, Poppy.”
Mr. Ocax hunched over and peered in her general direction. “Show yourself,” he said harshly.
“I’ll stay where I am, thank you,” Poppy returned. Wedged in as she was among the cornstalks, she felt totally secure. She knew he could not reach her there.
“Mr. Ocax,” she called, “is it the owl on that barn you’re looking at?”
“What’s it to you?” he growled.
“You’re frightened of it, aren’t you?” Poppy said.
Mr. Ocax opened his beak, but no sound came out. Instead, he kept peering into the corn.
Poppy said, “It’s awful to be frightened, isn’t it?”
“What did you say?”
“I said, it’s not fun being frightened, is it?”
To this Mr. Ocax said nothing.
“I could tell you a little something about that owl,” Poppy called, feeling altogether giddy with her knowledge.
“What is . . . that something?” the owl asked.
“Want to talk about it?” Poppy offered, suppressing a giggle. “Well, I might as well say it to you—I’m going to tell my family.”
Mr. Ocax shifted uncomfortably on his perch. “I’ll talk,” he said. Then he added, “But we could talk more easily if I could see you.”
To Poppy’s ears, the owl’s tone had shifted. It was not nearly so hostile as it had been. Was she only imagining that? Should she trust him? But even as she asked herself that question, she thought, Oh, the look on his face when I tell him that the bird he’s so frightened of is nothing but a fake! Aloud, she called, “Would you really like to talk about it with me?”
“Yes, I would,” replied Mr. Ocax. “You seem to be a very smart mouse.”
Poppy blushed. No one had ever called her smart before. This, she had to admit, was a very different side to Mr. Ocax from what she had known. Ragweed, in his way, had challenged him. As for her father, he had been very timid in his approach. Perhaps the owl would respect someone who stood up to him politely but firmly. “Do you really think I’m smart?” she inquired.
“I certainly do,” the owl said. “Yes, perhaps the two of us should just sit down and talk. The two smart ones. Maybe we can work something out.”
Poppy felt a stirring of excitement. Here she was, Poppy, talking in a perfectly reasonable way with the great Mr. Ocax. It was she, with her new knowledge, who had gained power. Perhaps, instead of humiliating him, she could work things out reasonably so the mice could move to New House. Wouldn’t that be a trophy to bring home! So thinking, she moved from her hiding place a little onto the dirt road.
“Yes,” Mr. Ocax said soothingly, “let the two of us talk things over. I should think we could find some reasonable solutions.”
“All right,” said Poppy. Boldly she stepped farther out on the road. She looked up. Mr. Ocax was gone. “Where are you?” she cried. At that moment the owl plunged down upon her from behind.
CHAPTER 18
The Battle
RAGWEED’S EARRING SAVED HER. So powerful, so swift was Mr. Ocax’s descent that he pushed a wave of air before him and caused the earring to flutter. The flutter felt like the tap of a
