The noon sun
Then his hands were still , and as he ran from tune to tune with improvised interludes , he droned a song of his prowess . Sometimes he sang words and sometimes he sang thoughts . He sank farther and farther down and looked up into the tree and ceased his song , chirping instead a stuttering falsetto trill , not unlike a cricket 's , holding his breath as long as he could to draw it out to its finest strand ; and thus with his head on his arm and his arm on the tree root , he fell asleep . The noon sun was on his legs when he awoke , and a strange dog was sniffing at him . As he started up , he heard the clatter of a horse 's feet in the road , and saw an Indian woman trotting toward him on a pony . In an instant he was a-wing with terror , scooting toward the thick of the woods . He screamed as he ran , for his head was full of Indian stories , and he knew that the only use Indians had for little boys was to steal them and adopt them into the tribe .