|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Young Forester by Zane Grey: to the roof of my mouth.
Fumbling at the hammer of my rifle, I peered into the black-streaked gloom
of the forest. The crackling of dry twigs brought me to my feet. At the
same moment the mustangs snorted. Something was prowling about just beyond
the light. I thought of a panther. That was the only beast I could think of
which had such an unearthly cry.
Then another bowl, resembling that of a dog, and followed by yelps and
barks, told me that I was being visited by a pack of coyotes. I spent the
good part of an hour listening to their serenade. The wild, mournful notes
sent quivers up my back. By-and-by they went away, and as my fire had
burned down to a red glow and the night wind had grown cold I began to
The Young Forester |
