548 WILD SPOBTS IN THE SOUTH. 



one marvel how few are the necessaries in this world 

 essential to our happiness. 



Several times we had our domestic privacy intruded 

 upon by our rustic neighbors during our absence, and 

 once in a way that ruffled the Doctor's good humor very 

 unusually. The camp had been left at early morning as 

 usual, and from the ridgepole of our tent was suspended 

 a sandhill crane, recently killed, and waiting for a cook- 

 ing. In returning, toward the dusk of the evening, the 

 negroes had separated to drive in the ponies, and the 

 Doctor was leading the van, and talking of his bird, the 

 sandhill crane, which at that season of the year was very 

 fat and delicate. The fire had gone almost out as we 

 came up to the tent, but by its light we could see the 

 little matters around in their usual condition. The Doc- 

 tor laid down his gun against a tree, and, stooping down, 

 walked into the tent. At that instant there was a pur- 

 ring growl, Poke was hurled over on his back, amid a 

 cloud of feathers, and a big wild-cat came dashing out 

 over the Doctor's prostrate body. 



" Oh ! ah !" sputtered the Doctor. " Catch him ! stop 

 him ! The wretch has eaten my crane !" 



The dogs yelped ; I fired a flying shot, and with two 

 or three rapid bounds the cat leaped up into a huge 

 magnolia tree growing hard by, and with a corkscrew 

 motion was soon lost to sight in the dense foliage that 

 extended far above the level of the surrounding trees. 



On entering the cabin, I found Poke disconsolately 

 sitting on his blanket, with the long bill of the crane in 



