"We thought the spook had got yuh, sure." Gene lifted his head
turtlewise and laughed deprecatingly. "We was just about ready
to start out after the corpse, only we didn't know but what you
might get excited and take a shot at us in the dark. We heard
yuh shoot--what was it? Did you find out?"
"It wasn't anything," said Grant shortly, tugging at a boot.
"Ah--there was, too! What was it you shot at?" Clark joined in
the argument from the blackness under the locust tree.
"The moon," Grant told him sullenly. "There wasn't anything else
that I could see."
"And that's a lie," Gene amended, with the frankness of a
foster-brother. "Something yelled like--"
"You never heard a screech-owl before, did you, Gene?" Grant
crept between his blankets and snuggled down, as if his mind held
nothing more important than sleep.
"Screech-owl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't
handle--if you want to know what _I_ think about it," Clark
guessed shrewdly. "I wish now I'd taken the trouble to hunt the
thing down; it didn't seem worth while getting up.
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