The Death 
By P. C. 
T HE crimson after-glow of a glorious sun¬ 
set -till lingered near the zenith. But 
dusk came slowly, for the full moon, just 
lifting its bulk above the horizon, flooded all 
things with a silvery light, almost as clear as 
the vanishing day. 
The air was warm, heavy and flower-scented, 
as the cape jessamines, ever-blooming roses 
and honeysuckle in Maman La Blanc’s flower 
patch mingled their perfume. Under the china 
trees, before the porch of Le Maison, Papa La 
Blanc, Feez, Adolphe and Gustave were sitting 
at ease, after the toils of the day, each busy 
with his cob pipe tilled with native perique— 
tobacco of their own growth and curing. Back 
on the gallery, Maman was busy with the girls 
“reddin up" the supper things; and down in 
the marsh flat, the frogs were serenading. The 
fireflies were out in force, their tiny lanterns 
flashing here, there and away, while a single 
locust (cicada) somewhere in the dusk was 
competing with the katydids, crickets and rain- 
‘crows (cuckoos). 
“Dose bird en frog talkin’ ’bout rain,” re¬ 
marked Feez. 
“Ya’as, en eef it not cum putty soon, ’fore 
nine days, we goan haf mitey pore crop roastin’ 
yeahs,” commented Adolphe. 
Dat s so, answered Papa. “An eef you boy 
doant geet up en chase sum oh dem ole coon 
outeh deh san’ ridge fiel’, de won't be nuffin lef’ 
but foddah. Me, I pas heem dis evenin’, en deh 
suah been makin’ eh ruction er-long de aidge eh 
de bresli; eet all haf de yeahs stripped.” 
“W’at you t’ink ’bout hit, Gustave?” asked 
Feez; “dis good nite fell hunt?” 
“Wondah eef Vic and Anse ood go? And 
wlieh dose dorgs ternite. O-Oh Marie, yeh, er 
Maman, seen ole Blue er Jupe sence suppah?” 
"Dose dorgs, lieah een de keetchin,” came the 
reply. “Geet out—begone, seh. Deys allays 
tinner foot. What yeh wants ’ith them?” 
Deigning no reply, Adolphe stepped to the 
gallery, and reaching down his hunting horn 
from its nail beside the door, sounded the 
neighborhood call. Too-too-too-too, hoo—too- 
oo, then resumed his seat beneath the trees. 
Several hounds came hurriedly from under 
the house, and seating themselves near him, 
watched with eager eyes and nervous, twitch¬ 
ing tails. A startled owl, down in the plum 
thicket, gave an answering “Too-whoo,” and a 
nearby raincrow ceased for a few moments his 
“Jug-jug-jug.” 
After waiting a spell, Adolphe repeated the 
of Ringtail 
TUCKER 
call, when answering notes wailed in the dis¬ 
tance. Then he gave the hunt call—“Too-too- 
too-o-oot”—and immediately the hounds gave 
tongue. Sitting on their haunches, with heads 
straight upward, they sang their anticipations. 
Again and again the hunt call was sounded, 
and answered; dogs were baying in all direc¬ 
tions, and boys, the day’s labor forgotten, be¬ 
gan rapidly to gather. 
“You boy want teh geet dose coon dees 
taime,” remarked Papa. “Doant let dem geet 
erway. Eef dey takes teh de bayou, jes go 
afteh dem. Doant let ’em drown de dorgs, en 
Ink out fell ole Ringtail—bet heem de main one 
on san ridge. Me, ah try track heem, een de 
sof' lan’, but eet teh dry—dus’ fall een trac’— 
down by de branch; me, ah see w’at I t’ink he 
foot, whah he cripple, een de trap las’ spring. 
Yeh kin bet, he maik lieet lively fell de dorg 
eef yeh fin’ heem.” 
Quickly the hunt was organized and the 
house left silent to Papa and the women folks, 
while down beyond the cowpen and horse 
corral could be heard the eager yelping of the 
hounds, and excited voices of the boys, now 
and again the notes of the horn and the “Geet 
heem. Blue, go after them, Jupe—yeah-yip-yip- 
yeah.” 
Down along the cornfield they went, where 
and tasseled stalks towered above their heads 
and the leaf blades formed a perfect hedge on 
either hand; rank growing plants, the stalks 
as thick as one’s wrist, and with ears stout and 
thick, their long tasseled points and drooping 
leaf blades greenish-yellow, and sweet-scented 
by day, but now of a, blackness but little better 
than the pine woods beyond, though the flash 
of the tiny lanterns of the lightning bug here 
and there illumined the long aisles. 
Down at the far end of the field, at the spring, 
several of the dogs gave tongue, but the hounds 
refused the scent, as that of a “squirril” or an 
"ole har’ .” Presently, Blue picked up a trail 
down the branch, Jupe backing him; the-pack 
was soon in full cry. Crashing through the 
undergrowth, dodging briar patches and bam¬ 
boo vines, over old logs and rotten stumps, 
tripping and falling, but up and after came 
the boys. 
Swinging off from the branch, the hounds 
trailed along the ridge, then down toward the 
stream again; then sharply came the “Yip-yip- 
yip-yip-a-ah-o-ooh,” as they halted, and circled 
a majestic oak. 
“Treed heem boys, allez, allez, vite. Eef he 
ain’t gone up de ole live oak. Betchah eet’s 
Ringtail. Hurry en lite up.” 
Quickly a bonfire was blazing, now flashing 
out bright and ruddy, and again "dying away to 
a sickly yellow; now silhouetting boys and dogs, 
overhanging branches and tree-boles; then the 
twigs and dry leaves fell to ashes, leaving all in 
shadow. Pine knots were soon kindled into 
torches, and an eager circle searched the tree 
and branches for signs of the game. 
“Thar he ees,” declared one. “ Say, Feez, 
how we goan clime this heah tree?” 
“'Dolphe, geet on my shoulders. Now kin 
yeh geet hole das ole grape vine? Das heet. 
Keep er goin’; bien, bien—allez, vite.” 
“Yeh, Claude, gif me er baick. Das heet. 
Ware yeh at, Adolphe? See heem?” 
“No, No. Das ole coon ent een dis tree. 
Eh, nom de nom. What dat? Look out dah. 
Le diable—Sacree—-’tain’t no coon; das er wile- 
cat. Watch out, boys. Vite, vite, le chat allez.” 
A gray form hurtled from among the foliage 
on the extremity of one of the lower branches, 
followed immediately by a wild scramble and 
rush of the hounds, as they retreated for a 
moment from the unexpected onslaught. Then, 
as the cat dashed for the undergrowth, dogs and 
boys rushed in pursuit. As Feez dropped from 
the tree and Adolphe could be heard scrambling 
down its trunk, they closed with the quarry, 
and, snarling and fighting, thrashed here and 
there. 
"Look out, Claude. Das ole Blue he clawin’. 
Lemme geet at heem. Pull em off. Dar dey 
go ergain. Sacree, he gotter wey. Non, Jupe ■ 
got hole eh heem, das taime, yah, yah. Golly, 
dat’s my laig. allez, allez. Eh, dar dey go. 
Yeah, yeah, Blue! Seeck heem, Jupe! Yeah, 
yeah.” 
Down through the sumac thicket and into the 
palmetto brake, then out by the cypress deaden¬ 
ing, along the river bank and up into the saw- 
grass flat. There the cat bayed again, and a 
battle royal was in full progress when the fore¬ 
most of the boys arrived. The blue hound, his 
ire fully roused by the earlier defeat, despite 
clawing and scratching, had fastened upon the 
cat’s throat, while Jupe and Tan pup had each a 
leg hold, pulling viciously, and the several fleets 
were snapping and biting wherever they could 
find tooth hold, keeping up a series of 
yelps meanwhile. Claude Valcour, by a quick 
blow, broke the cat’s back, and a moment later 
exhausted dogs and panting boys were ex¬ 
amining and gloating over the kill by the flame 
of several hastily kindled “lite ’ood” torches. 
Then, wending their way back along the edge 
of the flat to the lower end of “san’ ridge fiel’,” 
the dogs cast round for several minutes, then 
burst down through the corn aisles in lusty cry. 
Straight down to the branch they went, along 
the bank and across on the fallen gum log. 
