Night Noises 175 



to farm. All through the hushed fields there 

 is a cross-fire of answering crows, near or dis- 

 tant, but all shrilly clear. By the distance 

 and direction Joe could tell whose cocks an- 

 swered first. Little Mose half a mile ofF had 

 a famous red-game fellow whose crow was 

 really tuneful by contrast with the hoarse sput- 

 tering note of the Shanghais and Langshans 

 over at the Suter place half a mile beyond 

 Mose's cabin. 



Upon the off nights when Joe himself was 

 not hunting, he came pretty near to knowing 

 who was afield. Indeed he could not help 

 but know — yells, halloos, and barks are so dis- 

 tinctly individual. When they came in run- 

 ning chorus, with the beat of flying axes a little 

 later, and afterward the crash of a falling tree, 

 it all meant, of course, that a coon had run his 

 last; but by the after-whooping Joe judged 

 whether old man Shack had got him, or Daddy 

 Jim, or some of the black fellows from the 

 saw mill. Even in whooping the old man 

 drawled a bit — though night hunting was the 

 one thing at which he was not lazy. Daddy 

 Jim's whoop was mellow, but savage at the 

 very last. The mill fellows whooped hoarse 

 and hungrily, as though their vocal chords were 

 in need of oil. 



The sounds came clearest upon still moon- 

 lit nights, but loudest when the air was thick 



