imitation that even before Lucy answered and was heard coming toward
him, the other horses, near by, had also whinnied a response. Bob
laughed outright, and the Colonel chuckled.

"Upon my word, sir," he said, "I thought there was a horse right at the
back of my neck! You do it remarkably well!"

Dale smiled, for compliments, even the simplest, he had not experienced.
His people were unversed in many of the gentler ways, and this brought
him a pleasant sense of being appreciated.

"Can you imitate other things?" Bob asked.

"All thar is in the mountings," he answered. "I've talked with 'em ever
since I war a brat."

"They have a language, then?" Bob winked at the Colonel, who replied
with another warning look.

"'Course they hev a language. They talk jest like we-uns do, but 'thout
so many words. Lucy, hyar," he continued, after having patted her nose,
"'n' all critters, has one kind of whinny fer hunger 'n' thirst, another
when somethin's scarin' 'em, another when they're hurt, another when
they're callin' a critter, 'n' another when they're answerin'. Most all
varmints has those, too; jest the same as a critter--'cept the hunger
call."

"I don't quite follow your distinction between critters, as you call
them, and varmints," the Colonel turned curiously.

"Bob-cats, 'n' foxes, 'n' skunks, 'n' coons, 'n' them sech, is varmints.
Lucy is a critter," he said simply. "'N' they all have 'bout the same
sort of calls--'ceptin' hunger calls."

"But wild animals get hungry," the Colonel exclaimed, taking a still
deeper interest in what this observer was saying.

"Wall, yes," he drawled, "but some don't make no fuss 'bout hit. Take a
bob-cat! He'd be a purty thing a-yellin' all through the mountings when
he's hungry, now wouldn't he? _He's_ got ter move like a grey cloud, 'n'
slip up on things! A bob-cat," he added with his peculiar chuckle,
"that'd yell when he went a-huntin' wouldn't take long ter starve. 'N'
the wilder a thing is, the moh uncomplainin' hit is, too. Shoot a fox,
'n' he'll pull hisse'f along till he drops daid--jest grittin' his teeth
'n' standin' hit; but a dawg'll holler somethin' awful. Hit's most
allers that-a-way with birds, too. Ketch a chicken, 'n' folks'll think
ye're killin' her; but ketch a pa'tridge, 'n' she'll jest lay in yo'
hand 'n' breathe fast, 'n' hate ye."

"How do you account for that?" the Colonel asked. "The fox and the dog
belong to the same family; likewise the chicken and p