"Don't think so," replied Mr. Tapping. "Aren't many grouse, and I don't expect there'll be many hunters." "No," agreed old Jason, "the birds are dyin' out. It ain't like the old days." Mr. Tapping nodded. "Remember when Maudsley was here. Things was different then." "Who did you say?" said Mr. Tapping. "Maudsley," repeated old Jason. "He owned your farm twenty ... thirty years ago." Mr. Tapping shook his head. Maudsley, eh? Jimmy and Stella must have heard the name from one of the neighbors' children. "Yep," continued old Jason. "Maudsley had this place, and Trask rented the strip across the road." "So?" "Quite a story about them two." * * * * * Mr. Tapping said nothing. There would be no hurrying old Jason; and no stopping him either. The man obviously had a tale to tell, and he was enjoying every moment of this prelude. He bit off a piece of plug tobacco, chewed a moment and spat. "It was corn that started it," he said. "Maudsley was a great one to fool around with hybrids, and he worked out an early variety he called Maudsley Number two. That ain't bein' planted any more, but in those days it was well thought of. "Then Trask moves into the farm across the road. Trask was from down south, from around New Orleans way, and he was fired up with all sorts of backwoods stuff. Pretty soon he began to fight with Maudsley about how good his hybrid corn was. Seems Trask believed the only way to grow good crops was by usin' voodoo spells. Got so them two couldn't come into sight of each other without startin' an argument. One day Trask got so mad he let his cattle loose in Maudsley's cornfield. That settled it. Maudsley headed for Trask's place, armed with a double-barreled shotgun. But before he got there, Trask made himself invisible." "He did what?" demanded Mr. Tapping. "Well anyway, that's the story Maudsley spread around. Funny thing is, folks believed him. He said Trask, bein' from New Orleans country, knew all sorts of voodoo spells, and he said that Trask, bein' afraid, had cast a spell over himself to make himself vanish. 'Course some persons were suspicious and the sheriff asked Maudsley some questions. But Maudsley proved his shotgun hadn't been fired, and no one had seen him commit any crime. Trask was never seen around these parts again. After that Maudsley got to actin' sorta queer: lookin' over his shoulder, talkin' to himself. Then one day he up and cleared out, and the next anything was heard of him he had moved south to New Orleans, the very place Trask had come from. Maudsley is still down there; he wouldn't come back even long enough to complete the sale of his farm." Jason's voice died off as he reached the end of his story. "Did you hear what he said?" said Jimmy in a low voice. "Sure." Stella rose triumphant from capturing her bumble bee. "I knew it all the time." * * * * *