240 Old Bays on the Farm 



haps, a bucket of water in the well and a liberal 

 quantity of mud and the 'coon had mixed these 

 elements together in its efforts to escape. A 

 favourite dog of my boyhood days was with me, a 

 mongrel canine, but full of fight, and before I could 

 prevent — if I'd been so disposed — there was a 

 tussle going on in the bottom of that well, that 

 beat anything for fierceness of detail that I've 

 ever known. 



AN OLD STOBY RECALLED 



YouVe heard that story about the old hunter 

 who encountered a big bear and was armed only 

 with a knife. There was no way out but to fight 

 and the old man was a little bit nervous about the 

 outcome. He had not been in the habit of invok- 

 ing Divine aid in his earthly undertakings and 

 when he'd come up against what looked like seri- 

 ous trouble he felt it would be somewhat cowardly 

 to call for help when he'd been in the habit of 

 relying on his own resources in fair weather. 



"If ye can't help me, don't help the bear. Jest 

 remain neutral an' ye '11 see one of the biggest 

 fights ever tuk place," was the prayer he offered. 



I had to remain on the edge of that well a neu- 

 tral, so far as material help was concerned, and 

 I certainly did see ' * one of the biggest fights ever 

 tuk place," between a dog and a 'coon. It lasted, 

 I suppose, half an hour. I cried, prayed and 

 yelled in turns. Couldn't tell which from t'other, 



