Way-Atcha, the Coon-Raccoon 
you, and ready to vanish in his hollow tree, for the 
world has many hunting dogs, with but one Roy. 
He knows you not, but he knows that there is many 
an Indian Pete. 
Ye long to meet and know him, oh, ye Kindly 
Singing Woodsmen! Ye guarantee respect, yea, 
reverence, for the Dryad of thehollowtrees! Would 
I might be your introducing guide! 
T have sought, sought lovingly, to meet him in the 
low, wet woods of Kilder Creek. Many times have 
I put tempting corn in forks and other altars a# 
my offering to the Ringtail. And the corn is al- 
ways gone, I never know just how, but I see at 
divers times and trails the marks of that dexterous 
human-fingered paw, or the mussel shell with 
broken hinge, or the catfish fins, and know that still 
he dwells close by, that still he scoffs at bellowing 
hounds, nor has deep fear of any but the shameless 
axe that would steal his consecrated tree. What 
would I not give to have him let me see him as 
one sees a nearby Friend; but that is what he will 
not. All my privilege is this: to see the pattered 
pigmy human tracks when in the hours of morning 
sun I seek along the lake, or sometimes, when the 
autumn’s night is black, I get the long-drawn roll- 
ing song, “ WAill-ill-all-a-loo, whill-illl-ill-a-loo, whill- 
118 
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9 —y =e" me Ave “= 4 
= SE =— 
—_ z TENN “D> — 
—— = =< 4 ~ ZB 
