Mrs. Frisby takes a journey to see the owl.
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The Owl
Jeremy appeared as promised when the last thumbnail of sun winked out over the mountains beyond the meadow. Mrs Frisby was waiting, her heart pounding in her ears, and three of the children were there to watch — Teresa and Martin standing beside their mother, and Cynthia, who was afraid of the crow, just a pair of round eyes peering out of the round doorway. Timothy was down below, taking a nap, and had not been told about the expedition lest he worry and blame himself for the risk his mother must take. (Indeed, the words Moving Day had not been mentioned in his presence.) Even to the other children Mrs Frisby had explained only a part of the problem; that is, she had not told them that there were only five days left, nor anything about Mr Fitzgibbon and the tractor. She did not want to worry them, either.
Jeremy landed with a swoosh — a bit dramatically, perhaps — and nodded at the children and Mr. Frisby. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Here I am.’
Mrs Frisby introduced Martin and Teresa (and Cynthia’s eyes). Martin, who wished he were going on the trip himself, asked Jeremy in excitement:
‘How high can you fly?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know exactly,’ Jeremy said. ‘A couple of miles, I suppose.’ ‘Mother, did you hear? You’ll be two miles up in the air.’
‘Martin, it won’t be necessary to go so high on this trip.’
Jeremy said cheerfully: ‘No, but I can, if you’d like.’ ‘No, thank you. I wouldn’t think of your taking the trouble.’ She was trying hard to hide her terror,
and Martin had not helped matters at all. But Jeremy suddenly saw that she was trembling and realized that she must be afraid.
‘It’s all right,’ he said kindly. ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about. I fly over the woods a dozen times a day.
