Poudlum and I were anxious to do just that, and the dogs, in their excitement, were approaching the stage of being uncontrollable. “Yes, sir,” I said as we began to shoulder our packs.
“Let’s see?” he said. “Today’s Monday. You think y’all gonna get enough of them woods by Thursday?”
I looked at Poudlum, and we both said almost at the same time, “How about sometime Saturday morning?”
My uncle rolled his eyes, and said, “Lord, if y’all wasn’t different colors, I would swear you was twins. All right, I’ll be here before noon on Saturday to pick y’all up, but after then there won’t be no more gallivanting. I talked to Mister Jackson yesterday, and he thinks the trial might start next week down in Washington County, and you boys will have to be there to testify.”
“How come it’s in Washington County and not here in Clarke County?” I asked.
“’Cause the crime happened on the other side of the river, farther down south, and that’s in Washington County. Now listen y’all, they’s timber rattlers out in ’em woods. Keep your rifles on safety, but loaded, and use ’em if need be.”
Mister Autrey came out of the barn, joined us, and contributed some of his advice, “I’ve seen signs of panthers and bobcats in those woods, boys, so y’all keep your eyes and ears open, and a good fire going at night. Y’all ought to be fine since you got your dogs with you.”
We said our farewells, much to the delight of Old Bill and Rip, and we were about to enter the edge of the woods when we heard Mister Autrey.
“Boys! Boys!” he called out as he shuffled toward us.
When he caught up with us he seemed like he wanted to say something to us, but didn’t quite know how.
“Uh, there’s one other thing I forgot to tell y’all,” he said as he scratched his chin and stared off into space.
We waited a few moments, and then he finally blurted out, “They’s somebody else back in ’em woods y’all ought to know about!”
Chapter 2
The Voodoo Queen
I had no idea who or what Mister Autrey was talking about, but from the look on Poudlum’s face, I suspected he did.
I didn’t know what to say so I just waited, and in a few moments Mister Autrey overcame his reluctance and said, “Old Miss Lucretia lives in a cabin on the back side of my land just before you get to an old fence line that marks the end of my property. It’s best if you boys avoid having anything to do with her. And if you see any signs of her, best to avoid them, too.”
With that said, he turned on his heels and walked away from us.
I stood there in stunned silence for a moment before Poudlum said, “Come on, let’s go.”
The dogs already had their noses to the ground. I leaned over and gave Old Bill his signal and he lit out for the woods like a streak of lightning, with Rip right on his heels. Old Bill’s signal was a simple, “Go get ’em!”
We hadn’t gone twenty yards into the woods before he picked up a trail. We could tell by the sound of his bark, and we followed the sound. The sound and sequence of his bark would change when he got the squirrel located. It would go from a shrill and rapid yipping to a deep and steady woofing. When that change in his bark came, I knew he had one up a tree.
We started jogging then because we wanted to get there before the squirrel jumped to another tree and escaped through the tree tops.
Squirrels live in nests made of dry twigs high up in giant trees and sometimes they’ll hide in their nests, and the only way you can get them out is to shoot into the nest.
At other times they’ll take refuge in a hollow tree, but you can build a small fire with dry leaves in the hole at the bottom of the tree and send the smoke up inside. That always works and sooner or later the squirrel will pop out of a knot hole somewhere up the trunk of the tree.
It takes a great deal of time and patience to bag a squirrel without a good dog. Even though they live high up in the trees they come down to the forest floor to gather their nuts, and it was here they leave their scent, enabling a good dog to trail them to whatever tree they decide to climb—usually the nearest one—when they hear the dog.
We eased around to the other side of the tree from where the dogs were and began searching with our eyes.
“I see him!” Poudlum whispered, “There he goes twitching his tail about three-quarters of the way up the tree.”
“Okay, I see him, too, but you spotted it first, so you take him.”
Poudlum raised his unloaded rifle, sighted for a moment, and then said, “Bang! You dead, squirrel!”
“That’s one you would have got for sure if we weren’t just practicing,” I told him. “Now let’s get the dogs calmed down so they can find a fresh scent.”
We practiced bagging five more squirrels before we took a break. The dogs were tuckered out, too. They stretched out on the ground, breathing hard with their tongues hanging out.
“Time to start looking for a campsite,” Poudlum said.
“Uh huh,” I agreed. “It’ll be dark in a hour or two. We need to find some water. Only thing missing from this forest is a good creek.”
“They’s some little branches in here though,” Poudlum said. “We ought to come up on one pretty soon. If not, I ’spect we’ll spot a spring.”
I was just about to say if we didn’t find a creek or a spring we had full canteens, but before I could get it out of my mouth I suddenly picked up a scent that brought terror to my heart.
“Freeze, Poudlum!” I whispered harshly as I put my hand out to stop his forward motion.
“What is it?” he whispered back as he stopped dead still.
“Don’t you smell it?” I asked.
He inhaled deeply through his nose and then whispered, “Oh, Lord, it’s a timber rattler!”
Those big rattlesnakes had a distinct odor about them, kind of like a goat. My nose told me something was nearby, and I didn’t see any goats. We searched the ground with our eyes as we eased the safeties off on our rifles.
“I don’t see it nowhere!” Poudlum hissed.
“Me neither, but it’s here. Keep looking.”
The dogs had drifted off ahead of us and there was nothing to do except wait and look. That snake could blend in with the leaves and dead limbs and twigs on the ground, and one step in the wrong direction could bring disaster.
Suddenly I saw what looked like a stick slithering a few feet directly in front of us.
“There he is, Poudlum, dead ahead!”
“Dead is right,” Poudlum said as he raised his rifle.
I did the same, and our motion alerted the snake. His tail popped up and his rattles buzzed. He raised his head and struck with glistening bare fangs.
We both fired at his diamond-shaped head and blew it clean off his body.
The sound of the rifle shot brought Old Bill and Rip back from hunting a fresh trail, but they both kept a respectable distance from the remains of the snake, not sure if it had been rendered harmless.
Poudlum poked at it with a stick, and except for a few twitches, it didn’t move.
“Be careful,” I told him. “I’ve heard tell those things can still bite you after they’re dead.”