"How many wildcats you killed, Gabrul?" Their voices, rising to him through the darkness, were full of gentle mockery.
"When I was a boy, there was a cat once," Gabriel started. "It come 'round here huntin' blood. Come in through the winder of a cabin one night an' sprung in bed with a nigger an' tore that nigger's throat open befo' he could holler good."
"This cat in the woods, Granpaw. It jus' come out to git cows. Jupe Williams seen it when he gone through to the sawmill."
"What he done about it?"
"Started runnin'." Their laughter broke over the night sounds again. "He thought it was after him."
"It was," old Gabriel murmured.
"It after cows."
Gabriel sniffed. "It comin' out the woods for mo' than cows. It gonna git itssef some folkes blood. You watch. An' yawl goin' off huntin' it ain't gonna do no good. It goin' huntin' itssef. I been smellin' it."
"How you know that it smellin'?"
"Ain't no mistakin' a wildcat. Ain't been one 'round here since I was a boy. Why don't yawl set a spell?" he added.
"You ain't afraid to stay here by yosef, is you,
