THE SNOW-WALKEKS 63 



previous year creeping about the fields, so reduced 

 by starvation as to be quite helpless, and offering 

 no resistance to my taking them up by the tail and 

 carrying them home. 



The old ones also become very much emaciated, 

 and come boldly up to the barn or other outbuild- 

 ings in quest of food. I remember, one morning in 

 early spring, of hearing old Culf, the farm-dog, bark- 

 ing vociferously before it was yet light. When we 

 got up we discovered him, at the foot of an ash-tree 

 standing about thirty rods from the house, looking 

 up at some gray object in the leafless branches, and 

 by his manners and his voice evincing great impa- 

 tience that we were so tardy in coming to his assist- 

 ance. Arrived on the spot, we saw in the tree a 

 coon of unusual size. One bold climber proposed 

 to go up and shake him down. This was what old 

 Cuff wanted, and he fairly bounded with delight as 

 he saw his young master shinning up the tree. 

 Approaching within eight or ten feet of the coon, 

 he seized the branch to which it clung and shook 

 long and fiercely. But the coon was in no danger 

 of losing its hold, and, when the climber paused to 

 renew his hold, it turned toward him with a growl, 

 and showed very clearly a purpose to advance to the 

 attack. This caused his pursuer to descend to the 

 ground again with all speed. When the coon was 

 finally brought down with a gun, he fought the dog, 

 which was a large, powerful animal, with great fury, 

 returning bite for bite for some moments; and after 

 a quarter of an hour had elapsed and his unequal 



