It was the dead of night. Old Mr. Fox left his cozy¹ den² and went to call on his friend, the wise old Mrs. Owl³. For many years it had been his custom to do this, for he found her the most engaging company. Her home was in a hollow tree and she was always obliging enough to put her head out the window and inquire who was there, if any of her friends knocked hard and long at the basement door. It was useless to call in the daytime: she was always asleep while the sun shone, and in the early evening she would be abroad hunting her supper. But after the cocks crew at midnight, and people in their beds were turning over to get their best sleep, Mrs. Owl would come flying through the woods and across the river, and up the hill to her own great tree, having eaten heartily⁴ of whatever she may have found. Then she was ready to sit on her window ledge⁵ for a visit with her friends.  
So it was very late, and the woods was still as death, when patter, patter, through the underbrush came Mr. Fox to call on Mrs. Owl. Arriving at the bridge across the river, he jumped nimbly to the hand-rail and trotted⁶ on that narrow board as easily as a cat walks over the fence. For he was sure some dog would pass that way, come morning, but no dog would ever scent⁷ the wise fox who walks the rail.
 
"Always sniffing⁸ at the ground, these foolish dogs," thought Mr. Fox; and he laughed to himself as he jumped down into the bushes and ran on to the hill and the great cottonwood tree, whither Mrs. Owl herself had just returned.
 
With a big stick he hit the tree a hard blow. Then he barked politely and sat down to wait.
 
Way up in the top of the dead tree the window was open. Two great eyes looked out.
 
"Who's there? Who's there?" came in the most dreadful tones.
 
"Only your friend, a brother thief," laughed Mr. Fox; for in the company of Mrs. Owl he could afford this slanderous⁹ admission.
 
"Ha, ha!" screamed Mrs. Owl, who didn't mind being called a thief at all. In fact, she laughed so hard and long that every living being asleep in those woods awoke and shivered with a sudden terror. For it was the laughter of Mrs. Owl, you know, that made the blacksnake's blood run cold, and never has he been able to warm it up again, even by lying all day in the sun.
 
She scratched her ear and leaned a little farther out. After controlling her mirth, she grew very solemn and whispered down to Mr. Fox that she had discovered but an hour ago a certain roost with the most enticing¹⁰ hole in the roof.
 
"Easy and safe, you know," she giggled¹¹. "Two broilers and a fowl¹² I've had this very night." Then she laughed again, "Ha, ha! Hoo, hoo!"
 
But Mr. Fox knew she was lying. She was only trying to get him into trouble.
 
"Thanks for the hint," he barked; "but it is easier to get in by the roof than out by the roof, you know, unless one is gifted as you are with wings, Mrs. Owl."
 
"True, true," she said, in her wisest tones.
 
"And I really came, dear Mrs. Owl, to ask a question of you. Can you tell me why the crows are black?"
 
There was a long silence, for Mrs. Owl must have time to think. All things were known to her, but she revealed her knowledge only with the greatest deliberation.
 
First she looked all around, then she laughed again, this time so loud and long that Mr. Fox thought she............