When they had finished, the stale odors and the heat drove them quickly into the bar again, where for a little time Hannibal sat on Yancy's knee, by the door.

Presently he slipped down and stole out into the yard.
The June night was pulsing with life.

Above him bats darted in short circling flights.

In the corn-field and pasture-lot the fireflies lifted from their day-long sleep, showing pale points of light in the half darkness, while from some distant pond or stagnant watercourse came the booming of frogs, presently to swell into a resonant chorus.

These were the summer night sounds he had known as far back as his memory went.
In the tavern the three men were drinking--Murrell with the idea that the more Yancy came under the influence of Slosson's corn whisky the easier his speculation would be managed.