“ing the girth of his legs. 

ripe Dy Shh One OF BLOOD: 
(With apologies to Stephen Crane.) 
G. A. MACK. 
The day dawned reluctantly. Luminant, 
ochery streaks scouted before the tardy 
sun. Overhead many little clouds were 
welding into a large cloud. The West was 
ruddy with sinister prophecy. An arc of 
red, flaunting menace encroached upon the 
pasty sky. The wind soughing through the 
woodland roused sibilant protest. Birches 
and maples danced agitatedly like acrobatic 
spiders on a hot stove-lid.. Great oaks and 
hickories tossed up great arms and snapped 
their fingers at prognostications. 
The sun, clearing the hilltops, floated in 
gray mist like a currant tart.in a bowl of 
gravy. At sight of it the wind fled, moan- 
ing. Only now and again a stray flurry 
spluttered wet leaves. A chickaree chick- 
ered. A tree toad piped guttural pipings. 
At a dizzy height a hawk kee-you-ed; then 
tobogganing down a draught it vanished. 
A crow, preening upon a dead tree, turned 
from vanity to discretion. Motionless, he 
peered intently. Then bowing a mute cry 
of warning he fled on wings of silence. 
Portentous sounds beat upon a tense, wait- 
ing hush. The sounds were of crackling 
twigs, squishy gurglings of wet trodden 
moss, and raspings of briars on canvas. 
Ultimately a man appeared. He picked 
his steps with morose caution, after the 
manner of an approved leading villain. His 
face mirrored pigmy thoughts and ex- 
pressed late suppers and an indolent liver. 
Through his mask of nonchalance anxiety 
mowed and stared. For he had wagered 
a hat on his prowess, and his hands were 
yet bloodless. He wore tan thigh-boots 
built upon an extravagant rumor concern- 
His bepocketed 
coat was of the dead grass color carefully 
avoided by dead grass. Being of the in- 
structed, he carried his gun at an exag- 
gerated present arms. Wherefore many 
cobwebs streamed pennant-wise from its 
muzzle. Having crossed hills, he now 
moved with the cumbrous uncertainty of a 
paretic camel. His breath came and went 
in pants. Pausing, he assumed an attitude 
of great wisdom and vast experience. It 
seemed to him that his wood-lore was of a 
finer carat than the wood-lore of Daniel 
Boone. 
Observing these passages, a squirrel 
barked derisively. The man turned. The 
squirrel plastered himself smoothly to a 
branch. So doing he became invisible. 
The man brought his gun to a charge, stock 
below elbow. He was grounded in the 
ethics of clay birding and scorned advan- 
tage. 
He stretched his left arm beneath 
IOI 
the barrels like a beam under a derrick. 
Then in utter fulness of preparation he 
waited. The observing squirrel was dis- 
mayed at the auguries. He sought safety 
through danger. Springing from the branch 
he put the tree trunk between himself and 
his enemy. The man exultantly circled the 
tree. The squirrel retreated spirally up- 
ward. Coming to the topmost branch he 
hid in a crotch. The man continued to cir- 
culate with head atilt. When he grew dizzy 
he sat down, still holding his gun according 
to Hoyle. He persisted in this ambush- 
ment for a period, notwithstanding a crick 
in his neck. Also, there were gnats. 
In the hushy stillness the forest-folk re- 
asserted themselves. A bird trilled. A 
chipmunk held a nut in paws and gnawed 
it. The squirrel’s fancy grew roseate with 
hope. There is no danger, he thought. He 
remembered that he had business elsewhere, 
and leaving the crotch of security he vent- 
ured far out on the branch. The man saw, 
and his eyes gleamed balefully. He lifted 
the gun and fired. Many No. 6’s plopped 
into the doomed squirrel. For a moment 
he clung, his claws frantically exploring 
crevices in the bark for a firmer hold. His 
tail fluttered sinuously. Pain griped him 
and drew his lithe body into an agonized 
knot. Then, with horrible contortions, he 
bounded into the air and fell. A compas- 
sionate twig caught and held him. The 
report of the gun echoed against silence 
in demoniacal wailings and clashings of 
sound. 
The man stood waiting for the squirrel to 
fall. The trees looked on stolidly. The 
squirrel hung pendant, his breast upturned 
to the pitiless sky. His bright eyes gazed 
fixedly into nothingness. His little arms 
were raised as in protest or supplication. 
From his wounds drop followed drop and 
gathered on the fallen leaves in a red splotch 
of blood. 
The man~spoke. “Gawd!” he said. 
With that start he ran blithely down the 
scale of Biblical names, copiously garnish- 
ing all with lurid adjectives. Coming to 
Judas Iscariot he retraced his steps to the 
ultimate cause, amending and amplifying, 
and on the way coining many new adjectives 
of excessive virility. 
The trees preserved their impassible de- 
meanor. The squirrel hung pendant. The 
man’s word-minting capacity had limits. 
Reduced to tepid, inefficient damns, he went 
away. His feet made behobbed No. 11 
prints in the dank soil. 
