SPECKLED TROUT 109 



been excited by talk of legends and of weird shapes 

 and appearances, and when, on looking up toward 

 the sky, I saw those pale, phantasmal waves of mag- 

 netic light chasing each other across the little open- 

 ing above our heads, and at first sight seeming barely 

 to clear the treetops, I was as vividly impressed as 

 if I had caught a glimpse of a veritable spectre of the 

 Neversink. The sky shook and trembled like a 

 great white curtain. 



After we had climbed to our loft and had lain 

 down to sleep, another adventure befell us. This 

 time a new and uninviting customer appeared upon 

 the scene, the genius loci of the old stable, namely, 

 the "fretful porcupine." We had seen the marks 

 and work of these animals about the shanty, and 

 had been careful each night to hang our traps, guns, 

 etc., beyond their reach, but of the prickly night- 

 walker himself we feared we should not get a view. 



We had lain down some half hour, and I was just 

 on the threshold of sleep, ready, as it were, to pass 

 through the open door into the land of dreams, when 

 I heard outside somewhere that curious sound, a 

 sound which I had heard every night I spent in 

 these woods, not only on this but on former expedi- 

 tions, and which I had settled in my mind as pro- 

 ceeding from the porcupine, since I knew the sounds 

 our other common animals were likely to make, a 

 sound that might be either a gnawing on some hard, 

 dry substance, or a grating of teeth, or a shrill 

 grunting. 



Orville heard it also, and, raising up on his elbow, 

 asked, "What is that?" 



