How Animals Talk 



reckons dey knows it, too. Jum's tole um. Dat's 

 all de matter an* de mischief." 



"But how in the world should he know? You 

 never go hunting now unless I tempt you, and 

 none of the dogs saw or heard me come in," I 

 objected. 



Uncle chuckled at that, chuckled a long time, 

 as if it were a good joke. "Trust ol' Jum ter 

 know when we-all's gwine fox-huntin'," he said. 

 "You jes' trust him. I specks he kinder pick de 

 idee outer de air soon's we thunk it, same's he 

 pick a fox scent. 'Tain't no use tryin' ter lie 

 ter Jum, 'cause you can't fool 'im nohow. No, 

 sir, when dat ol' dawg's eroun', you don' wanter 

 think erbout nothin' you don' want 'im ter know." 



I had often marveled at Uncle, but now sud- 

 denly I thought I understood him. In his un- 

 conscious confession that he thought or felt with 

 his animals, rather than spoke English to them, was 

 probably the whole secret of his wonderful gift 

 of training. 



The same "secret" is shared by the few men 

 who have the gift of managing horses, and who can 

 do more by a word or even a look than another 

 man by bit and harness. I have heard the gift 

 described by a professional horse-trainer as the 

 "power of the human eye"; but that is nonsense 

 set to melodrama. An eye is a bit of jelly, and 



[142] 



