midnight
he asked thoughtfully . '' 'Cause she 's their mother , '' Tom said casually , `` an ' them 's her two children . '' Something hurt deep down in the Boy 's soul as he looked at the graceful nose and the red-stained fur at her throat . He saw his mother 's straight neck and head outlined again against the starlit sky the night she stood before him rifle in hand and shot at that midnight prowler . His mouth closed firmly and he spoke with bitter decision : `` I do n't like coon hunting . I 'm not coming any more . '' `` Good Lord , Boy , we got ter have skins h ` ai n't we ? ''