I sensed what he meant, so I flaxed around, An’ in less ’n no time we was out on the trail. Bill’s houn’ dawg, ol’ Jess, was sniffin’ the ground Pertendin’ tew ax, “Is it ’possum or quail?” Tho’ she knowed well enough thet a Hunter’s Moon Don’t never mean nuthin’ ’cept ’possum or coon. I’ve heerd tell o’ moonlights on earth here an’ thar, In Venice, an’ down in ol’ Rome’s Colyseum; But gim _me_ the light of our lunary star When dew turns ter di’monds in Frost’s jubileum; When the ’simmons is ripe, an’ not a leaf stirs, An’ the fiel’s is jes’ drownded in silvery blurs! We was strollin’ ’long “Four Mile” when suddenly Jess With a sharp, quick yelp shot off threw the bresh. Jehosaphat, pard, I gotta confess How a houn’ dawg’s tonguin’ will quicken the flesh! For over a hour me ’n Bill snook along, An’ never got tired o’ foll’rin’ thet song. She was pawin’ a tree when we seen ’er at last, A-yelpin’ an’ whinin’ jessif she’s possessed. ’T was a gum, thick an’ solid, an’ big ez a mast, An’ ’fore I could speak Bill was down tew ’is vest. Some chopper is Bill, an’ I sure never seen A tree cut cleaner—nor ha’f ez clean. All shiny an’ white like a human kid Thet ’possum looked when we hauled ’er out! I felt like ’t was murder, I suttenly did, But Bill ’e sez, “Now, keep a eye on ’er snout; She’ll ac’ ’z if she’s daid ez long ez it’s curled, An’ don’t ye leggo of ’er—not fer the world.” * * * * * When we reached “Four Mile” we sed down ter rest, Completely bewitched by thet orb in the West. We was talkin’ ’bout Injuns, an’ _seein’_ ’em tew, When I noticed, by jing, that ’ar ’possum hed blew! VII Jupiter Few months ago, I ’member well, me’n Bill Was settin’ by the cattle wat’rin’-trough A-lis’nin’ tew the steers thet skwudged around The muddy yard an’ chawed the’r cuds an’ sighed. A bunch o’ smallish hogs hed quit the’r rootin’ An’ packed the’rsel’s up close agin the fence, An’ yew’d ’a’ laft ter hear ’em goin’ ter sleep. Ef one the runts was squeezed a mite tew much By ’nother layin’ on ’im kind o’ hard, He’d snort an’ squeal ter beat a callioap, Then shove the bunch aside an’ wiggle out, An’ give ’em fits, an’ then go ’long an’ plunk His carcuss on some other one; an’ then We’d git the hull dum show all over ’gin.