Shooting 115 



how long they have been cleared, by the height 

 and strength of the sassafras torches flaming 

 in the woodland wall. 



There are wonderful differences in fallen 

 leaves. Joe did not know whether it were cause 

 or effect — the earth along the creek, and in 

 the hickory flats upland, being so much lighter, 

 blacker, and livelier than the soil of the flat- 

 woods. But he knew the leaves from the nut 

 trees, the ashes, and maples, crisped and lay 

 much lighter and higher than those of the oaks. 

 The hickory flats late in October looked as 

 though they had been shaped of sunshine and 

 beaten gold. Tall blackish-gray trunks ran 

 up slim and straight to lose themselves in clouds 

 of gold foil. They had few boughs below the 

 top — there the branches were thick enough 

 and leafy enough to spare a carpet for the earth 

 yet still ruflile it grandly in cloth of gold. The 

 carpet lay knee-deep, richly rustling, and upon 

 damp mornings or in the heat of noon, gave 

 out a fine elusive breath too subtle to be called 

 perfume. 



It was a delight to roll on the carpet or bur- 

 row beneath it for nuts. The leaves felt so 

 clean and springy until rains had beaten them 

 down. They packed easily, and took but a 

 winter to dissolve into their original elements 

 and become leaf-mold. Oak leaves did not 

 crisp — they scarcely even drew in their edges. 



