90 A HUNTER'S APPETITE. 



bestoAving a searching glance among the boughs above 

 us, in case a racoon should be sleeping on his perch. 



At last I discovered one, defined like a black spot 

 against the moonlit sky, and, aiming quickly, I brought 

 him down with the first shot. 



My comrades likewise found an opportunity of proving 

 their skill, and it is impossible to say how long we might 

 have continued our sport, if our stomachs had not re- 

 minded us that a good supper waited us at the farm. 



As you may suppose, we did justice to the repast pre- 

 pared by Mrs. Danielson and her charming daughter. 

 It was truly a pleasant sight to see four sharp-set hunters 

 devouring huge slices of smoked peccary ham, muffins, 

 maize cakes soaked in cream as thick as butter, and 

 potatoes sweet as sugar roasted in the ashes. Nor must 

 I pass over in silence a racoon-stew, which old Dolly had 

 hastened to prepare, with all the needful seasoning. My 

 companions found it exquisite, and through politeness, 

 arid a wish not to wound the cook's feelings, I thought 

 myself obliged, though with secret reluctance, to taste 

 the steaming dish. It was with an effort I did not 

 reject the only morsel I carried to my lips; and I confess 

 it in all humility my epicurism to this day prefers a slice 

 of beef to the leg of a stewed racoon ! I would rather 

 see the animal clinging to a branch than smoking in a 

 dish ! 



Next day, Dolly made it a pleasure and a duty to skin 

 all the racoons, and while he was engaged in this opera- 

 tion, I learned from his own mouth the following details 

 in reference to their habits : 



