STANDING AT BAY. 93 



He swallowed a rabbit whole, one fine morning yes, 

 hair and flesh and bones like a boa constrictor ! " 



And thus speaking, Master Dolly shed a tear of regret, 

 while his vast mouth gave utterance to a succession of 

 yah, yah, yahs ! followed by a couple of psliou pshous ! 

 stereotyped in the mouth of every negro who laughs. 



I shall finish this chapter too long already, I fear, for 

 the comfort of my readers by relating three incidents of 

 a racoon-hunt, which I once witnessed in the United 



States. 



In the neighbourhood of Charleston I was traversing, 

 one morning, the plantations of my friend Mr. Elliot, 

 followed by two dogs, Rover and Black. They started a 

 racoon, which took refuge in a bush growing against a 

 precipitous rock, a natural rampart, some forty to fifty 

 feet in height. Involved in a cul-de-sac, from which 

 escape was impossible, the racoon determined on giving 

 battle. All on a sudden he sprang into a narrow space, 

 left clear by the thorny vegetation which flourished round 

 the rock. Seating himself boldly on his hind-quarters, he 

 placed himself in the position of a boxer ready to ward 

 off the blows of his adversary. Black, his hair bristling, 

 his mouth open, and foaming with rage, advanced alone 

 against the quadruped, towering above him in size, and 

 holding him, as it were, in check. A pause of a few 

 seconds took place, during which four eyes devoured one 

 another, and cast that phosphorescent gleam so surely in- 

 dicative of animal rage. 



At length Black pounced upon the racoon, and seized 

 him by the chest, while his antagonist darted his sharp 



