The days went by and Magistrate Miklic did not yet return from across the mountain.  The mice played, and Rudolph Leopold Nickolos Lazare waited for more news from home.

Early one morning, when the rising sun turned the sky to a heavenly blue, Lazare saw the pigeon coming.  When the pigeon came to the window, Lazare removed the note from its leg.  The note read:

Dear Papa,

Mama had to sell the ox to Neighbor Nicknish in order that we would have the money with which to buy seed potatoes.  When shall we plant these seed potatoes, Papa?

Your loving son,
Rudolph.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" cried the farmer.  “My poor, dear family has no ox to pull the plow! What will we do? What will we do?”

As Lazare sat at the rickety table, writing on the other side of the blue paper, he thought he saw the mice wiping tears from their eyes.  He wrote:

Dear Rudolph,

I am sorry about the ox.  We must find a way to plow that field.

Your father,
Rudolph Leopold Nickolos Lazare.

He tied the note to the pigeon’s leg and sent the bird on its way.

A few days later the pigeon returned with another note.  It read:

Dear Papa,

Our plow handle broke.  I tried to fix it.  I hope it will hold well enough.  Since we have no ox we plan to take turns pushing the plow through the earth.