Read "Tom Slade at Bear Mountain" by Percy Keese Fitzhugh online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
It was now mid-afternoon and I could not linger at old Buck's cabin. But I sat upon the doorstep with him for a few minutes while he performed on that cartridge shell instrument of his. I actually saw him lure one of those noisy bluejays almost within reach of his arm, and I think he would have captured it if his granddaughter had not laughed aloud at my astonishment.
By using the shell in conjunction with a pebble he could reproduce the appalling sound of a rattlesnake. No rattlesnakes appeared, however. The girl assured me it was a "sure enough take off. " I don't know; I have never heard a rattlesnake. I told her that if I ever heard that sound, even in church, I would run, which seemed greatly to amuse her. "Fraid cat! " she said, and added that there were "heaps and heaps and heaps" of rattlesnakes around there. I told her one small heap would be enough for me. Her innocent amusement at my tenderfoot quality was very pretty to see. And her buoyancy against the background of her old grandfather's lazy manner and drawling voice was very attractive.