He opened the screen door between the kitchen and the porch and when the dogs did not immediately materialize he stepped outside and let the door swing and bang in its frame. After a quick low whistle, he pulled the pouch of tobacco from his chest pocket and rolled a cigarette. He leaned his elbows on the railing.

Moths flitted about the bare bulb above him.

Something moved through the sedges between the yard and the trees. He gave another whistle. Louder this time. When the dogs still did not come, he cursed and smiled, and went out after them.


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