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Stephens, Charles Asbury

"A Busy Year at the Old Squire's"

Buckskin snorted constantly,
and would not touch his corn; and the sweat drops came out on Jim's
hair. We left them the lantern, to reassure them, and closing the door,
went to the man camp, kindled a fire in the rusted stove, then warmed
our food, and tried to make ourselves comfortable in the damp hut, with
the blankets and sleigh robes that we had brought on the sleds.
Tired as we were, neither of us felt like falling asleep that night. It
was a dismal place. We wished ourselves at home. Judging by the
outcries, all the wild denizens of the wilderness were abroad. For a
long time we lay, whispering now and then, instead of speaking aloud. A
noise at the ox camp startled us, and, fearful lest one of the horses
had thrown himself, Addison went hastily to the door to listen. "Come
here," he whispered, in a strange tone.
I peeped forth over his shoulder, and was as much bewildered as he by
what I saw. Cloudy as was the night, glimpses of something white
appeared everywhere, going and coming, or flopping fitfully about. There
were odd sounds, too, as of soft footfalls, and now and then low,
petulant cries.
"What in the world are they?" Addison muttered.


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