84 BEYOND THE PASTURE BARS 



touch them. He won't eat anything on Thanks- 

 giving Day but 'possum!" No, he only said 

 ''Gobbler! Gander!" but he meant " 'Possum." 



I was humbly apologetic, and quick with my 

 promise to bring Uncle Jethro a big, fat 'possum 

 for his Thanksgiving dinner, if there was one left 

 in the woods of New Jersey. 



We had finished husking the shock of corn and 

 I had gone on ahead, broken the binding on the 

 next shock and pushed it over, while Uncle Jethro 

 was kicking the stray ears we had just husked into 

 the pile. 



As the stalks tumbled I looked down to see the 

 mice run, when, to my astonishment, I saw, curled 

 up in a bed of corn-blades, an enormous old 'pos- 

 sum. He had taken this shock of cornstalks for 

 his winter home, and had made his nest at its very 

 center, snug and warm and weather-proof. 



He had been sound asleep as the shock tumbled 

 over, but as the glaring light burst upon him he 

 half uncurled, yawned, and blinked, yet showed 

 no sign of surprise or the least intention of get- 

 ting up. It was very inconvenient to have one's 

 house pulled down like this about one's ears, and 

 wouldn't I be gentleman enough now to spare 

 him at least his bed? 



