A Skirmish witb Squirrels 325 



size. Every one of the quaint old guns was surely 

 the best ever made, and their owners had all sorts 

 of names for them, such as " Wild Frank," " Long 

 Maria," " Sweet Honey," " Reachin' Sue," and so 

 on. A few of them, when properly loaded, would 

 shoot fairly well, but most of them were regular 

 old gas-pipes which flung the big shot far and 

 wide. The negroes never attempted a running 

 shot, but followed a squirrel until it had halted 

 in an easy position, and then, like as not, the old 

 gun was fired from a rest. The fact that every 

 squirrel shot meant a dime in the hunter's pocket 

 will explain the extreme caution exercised. 



The negroes, dyed-in-the-wool pot-hunters as they 

 were, never would give a squirrel a fair chance, and 

 they absolutely would not hustle, so we did things 

 to them cheerfully and without price. To roll a 

 wad of leaves and tie it firmly with a bit of twine 

 is a very simple matter; to cut the tail from a dead 

 squirrel and affix it to the roll is not too laborious, 

 considering the joys it may bring. To climb an easy 

 tree and lash the dummy in a lofty fork possibly is 

 hardish work, but then, where the tail swings free, 

 the thing does look so like a squirrel. Thus we 

 made and set the coon-trap. And if the coon did 

 not find it, we attended to everything with a guile- 

 less simplicity which was extremely beautiful. We 

 would meet our victim and make fair speech unto 

 him, show him our squirrels, and gradually drift 

 him into the danger zone. Ten to one he'd be 

 the first to see the squirrel ! And then, was it not 

 rare sweet joy to notice how he would manoeuvre us 

 away from the prize, till in spite of our exasperating 



