Part 14 (1/2)

A loud, startling but soft ”Ohoo--O-hoo--O-hoooooo,” like the coo of a giant dove, now sounded about their heads in a tree. They stopped and Sam whispered, ”Owl; big Hoot Owl.” Yan's heart leaped with pleasure.

He had read all his life of Owls, and even had seen them alive in cages, but this was the first time he had ever heard the famous hooting of the real live wild Owl, and it was a delicious experience.

The night was quite dark now, but there were plenty of sounds that told of life. A Whippoorwill was chanting in the woods, a hundred Toads and Frogs creaked and trilled, a strange rolling, laughing cry on a marshy pond puzzled them both, then a Song Sparrow in the black night of a dense thicket poured forth its sweet little suns.h.i.+ne song with all the vigour and joy of its best daytime doing.

They listened attentively for a repet.i.tion of the serenade, when a high-pitched but not loud ”_Wa--wa--wa--wa--wa--wa--wa--wa_!”

reached their ears from a grove of heavy timbers.

”Hear that?” exclaimed Sam.

Again it came, a quavering squall, apparently much nearer. It was a rather shrill sound, quite unbirdy, and Sam whispered:

”c.o.o.n--that's the whicker of a c.o.o.n. We can come down here some time when corn's 'in roastin'' an' have a c.o.o.n hunt.”

”Oh, Sam, wouldn't that be glorious!” said Yan. ”How I wish it was now. I never saw a c.o.o.n hunt or any kind of a hunt. Do we have to wait till 'roasting-ear' time?”

”Oh, yes; it's easier to find them then. You say to your c.o.o.ns, 'Me an' me dogs will meet you to-night at the nearest roastin'-ear patch,'

an' sure nuff _they'll_ keep the appointment.”

”But they're around now, for we just heard one, _and there's another_.”

A long faint ”_Lil--lil--lil--lil--lil--li-looo!_” now sounded from the trees. It was like the other, but much softer and sweeter.

”There's where you fool yerself,” replied Sam, ”an' there's where many a hunter is fooled. That last one's the call of a Screech Owl. You see it's softer and whistlier than the c.o.o.n whicker.”

They heard it again and again from the trees. It was a sweet musical sound, and Yan remembered how squally the c.o.o.n call was in comparison, and yet many hunters never learn the difference.

As they came near the tree whence the Owl called at intervals, a gray blot went over their heads, shutting out a handful of stars for a moment as it pa.s.sed over them, but making no noise. ”There he goes,”

whispered Sam. ”That's the Screech Owl. Not much of a screech, was it?” Not long afterward Yan came across a line of Lowell's which says, ”The song of the Screech Owl is the sweetest sound in nature,” and appreciated the absurdity of the name.

”I want to go on a c.o.o.n hunt,” continued Yan, and the sentence was just tinged with the deep-laid doggedness that was usually lost in his courteous manner.

”That settles it,” answered the other, for he was learning what that tone meant. ”We'll surely go when you talk that way, for, of coorse, it _kin_ be done. You see, I know more about animals than birds,”

he continued. ”I'm just as likely to be a dentist as a hunter so far as serious business is concerned, but I'd sure love to be a hunter for awhile, an' I made Da promise to go with me some time. Maybe we kin get a Deer by going back ten miles to the Long Swamp. I only wish Da and Old Caleb hadn't fought, 'cause Caleb sure knows the woods, an'

that old Hound of his has treed more c.o.o.ns than ye could shake a stick at in a month o' Sundays.”

”Well, if that's the only c.o.o.n dog around, I'm going to get him.

You'll see,” was the reply.

”I believe you will,” answered Sam, in a tone of mixed admiration and amus.e.m.e.nt.

It was ten o'clock when they got home, and every one was in bed but Mr. Raften. The boys turned in at once, but next morning, on going to the barn, they found that Si had not only sewed on and hemmed the smoke-flaps, but had resewn the worst of the patches and hemmed the whole bottom of the teepee cover with a small rope in the hem, so that they were ready now for the pins and poles.

The cover was taken at once to the camp ground. Yan carried the axe.

When they came to the brush fence over the creek at the edge of the swamp, he said:

”Sam, I want to blaze that trail for old Caleb. How do you do it?”