applied his sturdy fingers and his nimble legs to the bark of the
tree, and up he went like a cat.

He climbed to the lower branches easily enough, but he caused much
commotion and swaying among them as he struggled through the
foliage. An owl, with great remonstrant eyes, suddenly looked out
of a hollow, higher still, with an inarticulate mutter of mingled
reproach, and warning, and anxiety. Rufe settled himself on the
platform, his bare feet dangling about jocosely. Then, beating his
hands on either thigh to mark the time he sang in a loud, shrill
soprano, prone now and then to be flat, and yet, impartially, prone
now and then to be sharp: -

Thar war two sun-dogs in the red day-dawn,
An' the wind war laid--'t war prime fur game.
I went ter the woods betimes that morn,
An' tuk my flint-lock, "Nancy," by name;
An' thar I see, in the crotch of a tree,
A great big catamount grinnin' at me.
A-kee! he! he! An' a-ho! ho! he!
A pop-eyed catamount laffin' at me!

And, as Rufe sang, the anger and remonstrance in the owl's demeanor
increased every moment. For the owl was a vocalist, too!

Bein' made game of by a brute beastis,
War su'thin' I could in no ways allow.
I jes' spoke up, for my dander hed riz,
"Cat--take in the slack o' yer jaw!"
He bowed his back--Nance sighted him gran',