yet pouring out their liquid notes in the
gloaming.

"I wish I could be always here," said Yan, but he started a little
when he remembered how unwilling he had been to come.

There was a long silence as they lingered on the darkening road. Each
was thinking hard.

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 sunshine song
with all the vigour and joy of its best daytime doing.

They listened attentively for a repetition 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:

"Coon--that's the whicker of a Coon. We can come down here some time
when corn's 'in roastin'' an' have a Coon hunt."

"Oh, Sam, wouldn't that be glorious!" said Yan. "How I wish it was
now. I never saw a Coon 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 Coons, '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 Coon whicker."

They heard it again and again from the trees. It was a sweet musical
sound, and Yan remembered how squally the Coon call was in comparison,
and yet many hunters never l