SUMMER RETREAT IN ARKANSAS. 35 
then thar aint no cat-fish in the Mississip. I larnt that 
nih twenty year ago, and, perhaps, you would like to 
know about it.” Signifying my assent, Bob Herring 
got up on his bed—for as it was upon the bare ground, 
he could not well get off of it—and, approaching the fire, 
he threw about a cord of wood upon it, in the form of a 
few huge logs; as they struck the blazing heap, the sparks 
flew upwards in the clear cold air, like jets of stars; 
then, fixing himself most comfortably, he detailed what 
follows : 
“ T had a knowin old sow on a time, that would have 
made a better hunter than any dog ever heer’d on— 
she had such a nose,—talk ’bout a dog following a cold 
trail—she’d track a bar through running water. Well 
—you see afor’? I know’d her vartu’, she came run- 
ning into my cabin, bristles up, and fell on the floor, 
from what I now believe, to have been a regular scear. 
I thought she’d seen a bar, for nothing else could make 
her run; and, taking down my rifle, I went out sort a 
carelessly, with only two dogs at my heels. I hadn’t 
gone far ’fore I saw a bar, sure enough, quietly standing 
beside a small branch—it was an old He, and no mistake. 
“T crawled up to him on my hands and knees, and 
raised my rifle, but had I fired, I must have hit him so 
far in front, that the ball would have ranged back and 
not cut his mortals. I waited—and he turned tail to- 
wards me, and started across the branch ; afeer’d I’d lose 
him, I blazed away, and a sort of cut him slantingdicu- 
