12¢ The American Angler 
bright moonlight night. Lawd, how 
de frost did shine on de grass, an’ a 
feller hed to jump roun’ to keep warm. 
Little Billy Cullen fetched three head 
o’ dogs, Tom Morris hed ole Hec, an’ 
Joe Benson hed an ole yaller cur—he 
was mighty good to jump a coon, but 
couldn’t run a trail wuff a cent—allers 
frowin’ off on rabbits an’ minks an’ 
sich; but de boss dog o’ de hull lot was 
Jack’s Trailer. 
dat dog would run a coon! An’ foxes 
—(another jerk at the 
proved a false alarm.) 
off—went down back o’ de 
den struck froo de woods down 
along de branch. Trailer got foot of a 
possum and treed him, an’ little Billy 
Bless de Lawd, how 
line, which 
Well, we sot 
ole field, 
an’ 
Cullen clim de tree an shuk him out 
an’ de yaller dog killed him. We kept 
on for a spell, an’ at last Trailer struck 
On saecoon Ss» track.» Arter 
oder dogs tuk it up an’ off dey went, 
down de branch, den up froo Mr. Ben- 
son’s field, an’ down along de crick. 
Lawd, what music! Dey run dat coon 
two hours ‘fore he treed, but, at last, 
Trailer fetched a bark, an’ we knowed 
his goose was cooked. We run down 
to whar de dogs was, and sho’ ‘nuff, 
dar was Mr. Coon ’way up on de tip 
top of a big gum, scrouched down clost 
to de limb. ‘Who’s goin’ to climb dat 
tree?” said Billy Cullen.= “Taint me, 
you may jest bet,’ Joe Benson said. 
‘Kaint git dis chile up dat tree.’ ’Bout 
dat time up comes Jack. ‘Whar’s de 
coon? ssaid she); “Upson detip topo’ 
dat gum,’ said Billy. ‘ Hain’t nobody 
goin’ arter him?’ said Jack. ‘You go 
yerself,’ said Billy; I clim for de pos- 
sum! Joe Benson said he’d go, only he 
hed a sore foot. At last Jack tuk off 
his coat an’ boots, an’ I gin’ him a lift 
an’ up he went. He got up an’ shuk 
out de coon, an’ jes as de ole feller 
a while de 
struck de ground de dogs catched him, 
an my, oh! What a bully fight he made. 
While we was payin’ ‘tention to de 
dogs an’ Jack hollered out, 
‘Boys, I kain’t hold out much longer! 
coon, 
We looked up, an’ my golly, dar was 
Jack ’way out on a little limb an’ hit a 
bendin’ an’ him almost pitchin’ off. 
‘What’s de matter?’ said Joe. “Im 
slippin’, said Jack, an’ ’fore he got de 
words out’n his mouf his feet giv way 
an’ he was just hangin’ by his arms. 
We all hilt our breff. 
fall,’ said Jack. ‘Ef you're gwine’ to 
fall yo’ better say yo’r prayers,’ said 
Joe Benson, ‘for you'll git smashed all 
ter flinders.’ 
said Jack. 
art in 
‘I’m gwine to 
‘Don’t know no prayers,’ 
‘Better say ‘Our Father 
heaven’ anyhow, fur yell be 
killed, sure! Jack commenced: ‘Our 
Father art in heaven, hollered be dy 
name—’”’ here, here, (gave another pull 
at his line, and brought up a toad fish, 
andthen resumed). ‘‘Wharwas I?” 
‘¢ Where the boy was saying his pray- 
ers,” said I. 
‘+ Oh, yes! Well, he got up to ho 
lered be dy name,’ an’ didn’t know no 
mo’, an’ while he was tryin’ to recollec’ 
de balance his hands slipped, an’ down 
he kim kerwallop, an’ lit on Joe Ben- 
son’s yaller dog. Lawd, what a ki-yi 
dat dog sot up; you could yere him fo’ 
miles. Joe said de dog’s back was 
bruk, an’ his ole man would giv’ him 
de debil, fur be kind o’ prized dat dog, 
he was a good ratter roun’ de granery. 
But, pore Jack! Dar he laid—groanin 
an’ carryin’ on as ef he wor dead fo’ 
sure. Billy Cullen ’xamined him an’ 
axed him how he felt, but Jack he 
on’y groaned—couldn’t speak. Billy’s 
brother Sam was learnin’ to be a doctor 
at some college, an’ Billy ’magined he 
know’d somethin’ ‘bout doctorin’, so he 
took holt o’ Jack’s pulse, an’ arter a 
