heard on the shore." If we could happen upon 

 the mud-turtle mad with love, I am sure we 

 should find that he had a voice— a "soft, sibilant 

 croak," who knows ? 



I had long known the tradition among the 

 farmers of the black -snake's trailing its mate, 

 following her by scent through grass and brush, 

 persistent and sure as a sleuth-hound, until at 

 last she is won. I had been told of this by eye- 

 witnesses over and over, but I had always put it 

 down as a snake story, for these same witnesses 

 would also tell me the hoop-snake story, only it 

 was their grandfathers, always, who had seen 

 this creature take its tail in its mouth and roll, 

 and hit and kill a fifty-dollar apple-tree (the 

 tree was invariably worth fifty dollars). I had 

 small faith in the trailing tale. 



One day, the summer after my encounter in 

 the ferns, I was sitting upon a harrow at the 

 edge of the gravelly field that slopes to the 

 swale, when a large black-snake glided swiftly 

 across the lane and disappeared in the grass be- 

 yond. It had been gone perhaps a minute, 

 when I heard another stir behind me, and 

 turning, saw high above the weeds and dewberry- 

 [156] 



