The things we do!

With every step, he felt that he would
miss secure footing and be swallowed in that clinging sea of blackness.
In dumb agony he plunged forward, clinging to the posts and trees until
he had finished restringing and testing the wire. He had consumed
much time. Night closed in. The Limberlost stirred gently, then shook
herself, growled, and awoke around him.
There seemed to be a great owl hooting from every hollow tree, and
a little one screeching from every knothole. The bellowing of big
bullfrogs was not sufficiently deafening to shut out the wailing of
whip-poor-wills that seemed to come from every bush. Nighthawks swept
past him with their shivering cry, and bats struck his face. A prowling
wildcat missed its catch and screamed with rage. A straying fox bayed
incessantly for its mate.
The hair on the back of Freckles' neck arose as bristles, and his knees
wavered beneath him. He could not see whether the dreaded snakes were on
the trail, or, in the pandemonium, hear the rattle for which McLean had
cautioned him to listen.


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