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Show WILLIAMS WEEKLY i n7 S. O. Of Possum Dick's achieve 1 lents In other lines I know nothing, 1 ut that he Is wise In the lore of men nd animals I know, for I have hunt-; hunt-; d with him. i How old he is I cannot say, but he 1 s bent and leathery and seamed, and is he shuffles along, with his old staff n one hand, the other a vast, strange, 'lorny hand It is hangs almost to Ids tnee. His ragged, faded coat Is pinned vith safety pins, and his trousers are nended with twigs; his little beard is ;jray and wooly, his eyes are nrge, sad, thoughtful, and sometimes here comes into them, when he is . mused, the flicker of a smile but hat is all. "How do you find your way when f's dark like this?" yon ask as you lod behind Dick's swinging lantern. "On night lak dis," he answers, "Ah tints by de stabs. Ah jes tak me n objlc' fob. a stah, an' set me dat tah fo' t' guide me on ma coo'se. hen de stahs ain't out, den Ah hunts y de wind. Ah has a too'ch, an' Ah iolds it up so an' de smoke, dat ell me wheh Ah'm agoln'. De too'ch, a's good too, fo t' shine de possum's ye." "Shine his eye? How do you lean?" "Ah hoi's ma light down behin me an' Ah looks up in de tree, an )ssum, up in de tree, he see de light, |
