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Updated: May 20, 2025
In these her native woods, my comrade led in our walks, and the moment we heard his tantalizing z-z-z she turned irresistibly toward it. I followed, of course, happy to be anywhere under these trees. One morning she tracked him inch by inch till she was fortunate enough to trace him to a wild corner in the woods given up to a tangle of fallen trees, saplings, and other growth.
Is there an unholy spirit that cannot be found there? Z-z-z- a sudden sizzling whisper reached my ear, and I began to cry. "Why don't you sleep?" asked the shepherd boy in his broken Yiddish. "I am afraid!" "What are you afraid of?" "Of of the woods . . . ." "Ha ha ha I have good dogs with the flock!"
"Better wedge her, Tom," advised Hank. They paused while, with a heavy sledge, Tom drove a triangle of steel into the crack made by the sawing. This prevented the weight of the tree from pinching the saw, which is a ruin at once to the instrument and the temper of the filer. Then the rhythmical z-z-z! z-z-z! again took up its song.
But it was an enticing voice, a sweet-toned succession of z-z-z in ascending scale, and it was so persistent that when we really made the attempt, we had no trouble in getting sight of the little beauty hardly bigger than one's thumb.
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