X A LITTLE BROTHER OF THE BEAR 281 



When within a dozen paces I saw that its chops 

 were literally dripping with gore. There were no 

 feathers at the foot of the tree or caught in the 

 tangled undergrowth, and no bits of fur ; but drops 

 of blood were spattered everywhere. The poor 

 thing must be wounded, I thought. Hoping, there- 

 fore, to put the creature out of its misery, I planned 

 to reach it; but as I had no gun, I could only 

 climb. This failed, but, as I was looking up the 

 straight stem of the tree, the 'coon moved a little 

 upward and outward, as though determined to 

 keep the space between us unchanged. The ease 

 of its movements did not suggest a wound or a 

 weakness from loss of blood, and I was again at 

 sea in the matter, but only for a moment. Scat- 

 tered about the vine were single grapes and bunches 

 of two and three. A beggarly show for grapes ; 

 but then their size made up for the lack of num- 

 bers. Each grape was black as anthracite, a 

 perfect sphere an inch in diameter. Such grapes ! 

 No wonder the raccoon had jaws dripping with 

 gore ; no wonder the leaves below were spattered 

 with purple blotches. Every grape was nigh to 

 bursting with the richest of ruddy wild fruit-juices, 

 crimson and blood-thick. My little 'coon was an 

 epicure." 



One of the singularities of the raccoon is its habit 

 of dipping its food in water or washing it, to which 

 it owes its specific name, lotor, the washer. If 

 water is not at hand, it will often rub it vigorously 



