36 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
larly through his hams, and brought him down; thar he 
sot looking like a sick nigger with the dropsy, or a black 
bale of cotton turned up on end. It was not a judge- 
matical shot, and Smith thar,” pointing at one of the 
sleeping hunters, “ would say so.” 
Hereupon Bob Herring, without any ceremony, 
seized a long stick, and thrust it into Smith’s short ribs, 
who thus suddenly awakened from a sound sleep, seized 
his knife, and, looking about him, asked confusedly 
what was the matter ? 
“ Would you,” inquired Bob, very leisurely, “ would 
you—under any carcumstances, shoot an old He in the 
hams ?” 
Smith, very peremptorily, told his questioner to go 
where the occupier of the Retreat in summer, is sup- 
posed to reside through the winter months, and went in- 
stantly to sleep again. 
Bob continued—“ Stranger, the bar—as I have said, 
was on his hams, and thar he sot—waiting to whip 
somebody, and not knowing where to begin ; when the 
two dogs that followed me came up, and pitched into 
him like a caving bank—I know’d the result afore the 
fight began; Blucher had his whole scalp, ears and all, 
hanging over his nose in a minute, and Tige’, was lying 
some distance from the bar on his back, breathing like 
a horse with the thumps; he wiped them both out with 
one stroke of his left paw, and thar he sot—knowing as 
well as I did, that he was not obliged to the dogs for 
