often laughed at Granny de
Neuville's active hatred against him when he had done her nothing but
good. It never occurred to him that he was acting a similar part. Most
men would have been furious at the disrespectful manner of their son,
but Raften was as insensitive as he was uncowardly. His first shock
of astonishment over, his only thought of Sam was, "Hain't he got a
cheek! My! but he talks like a lawyer, an' he sasses right back like a
fightin' man; belave I'll make him study law instid of tooth-pullin'."

The storm was over, for Caleb's wrath was of the short and fierce
kind, and Raften, turning away in moral defeat, growled: "See that ye
put that fire out safe. Ye ought all to be in yer beds an' aslape,
like dacint folks."

"Well, ain't you dacint?" retorted Sam.

Raften turned away, heeding neither that nor Guy's shrill attempt
to interpolate some details of his own importance in this present
hunt--"Ef it hadn't been for me they wouldn't had no axe along, Mr.
Raften"--but William had disappeared.

The boys put out the fire carefully and made somewhat silently for
camp. Sam and Yan carried the Coon between them on a stick, and before
they reached the teepee they agreed that the carcass weighed at least
eighty pounds.

Caleb left them, and they all turned in at once and slept the sleep of
the tired camper.

XXIII

The Banshee's Wail and the Huge Night Prowler

Next day while working on the Coon-skin Sam and Yan discussed
thoroughly the unpleasant incident of the night before, but they
decided that it would be unwise to speak of it to Caleb unless he
should bring up the subject, and Guy was duly cautioned.

That morning Yan went to the mud albums on one of his regular rounds
and again found, first that curious hoof-mark that had puzzled
him before, and down by the pond album the track of a very large
bird--much like a Turkey track, indeed. He brought Caleb to see them.
The Trapper said that one was probably the track of a Blue Crane
(Heron), and the other, "Well, I don't hardly know; but it looks to me
mighty like the track of a big Buck--only there ain't any short of the
Long Swamp, and that's ten miles at least. Of course, _when there's
only out it ain't a track_; it's an accident."

"Yes; but I've found lots of them--a trail every time, but not quite
enough to follow."

That night after dark, when he was coming to camp with the product of
a "massacree," Yan heard a peculiar squawking, gutt