Just put one up a tree and I’ll do the rest.” I turned them loose, saying, “Go get ’em.”
They streaked for the timber. By the time I had reached the river, every nerve in my body was drawn up as tight as a fiddlestring.
Big-eyed and with ears open, I walked on, stopping now and then to listen.
The way I was slipping along anyone would have thought I was trying to slip up on a coon myself.
I had never seen a night so peaceful and still. All around me tall sycamores gleamed like white streamers in the moonlight.
A prowling skunk came wobbling up the riverbank. He stopped when he saw me.
I smiled at the fox-fire glow of his small, beady, red eyes.
He turned and disappeared in the underbrush. I heard a sharp snap and a feathery rustle in some brush close by.
A small rodent started squealing in agony. A night hawk had found his supper.
Across the river and from far back in the rugged mountains I heard the baying of a hound.
I wondered if it was the same one I had heard from my window on those nights so long ago.
Although my eyes were seeing the wonders of the night,
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