48 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



painter — he hadn't been outside of my circle at all, the dratted 

 cuss ! He had just been a layin'-to for another haul on the sheep- 

 pen, and so I hadn't struck his trail. I kept quiet, thinkin' he 

 would come up toward the improvements, and I could tickle him, 

 but he reether seemed to move off. Arter a while I heerd him 

 purrin' lik, and then I knew he had something to eat — fawn, like 

 'nough, or some small animal. This guv me a mean opinion of 

 this painter, for your rael snortin' big fellars don't stoop to small 

 fry, but live on deer, sheep, hogs, or sich like. Wall, mornin' come 

 on, and when it bruck enough to see a meetin'-house, I pushed on, 

 but the painter had moved off. I found a sheepskin all rolled up, 

 and I knew then why he had been purring. The painter had 

 caught a sheep on the range some time in the day, and not eaten 

 it, so he didn't have need for more fodder all night. I found the 

 trail, and then sez I, * Now, Mr. Painter, we '11 see who 's best at 

 walkin'.' Yowler tuck the trail, and along we bowled for about 

 an hour, when all of a sudden I heerd Yowler, who was some ways 

 ahead, stop his yelpin', and back he come, with somethin' arter 

 him, tight as he could buckle. As they come up I let drive at 

 what was arter him kind o' promiscuously, for it wasn't fairly 

 dawn yet. The shot hit, I knew, for the varmint held up, and 

 then ran off. 



" ' Now,' says I ter myself, ' isn't a painter a mighty onsartin 

 varmint? Here is one that gets wounded, and yet don't pitch 

 inter a feller. Who 'd ha' looked for sich a coward in a painter ? ' 

 Then, after loadin', I put on Yowler again, and we bowled along, 

 not quite so lively as afore, for Yowler was a leetle kind o' shy, 

 but still we did some pretty loud goin'. 



" ' Whar 's that air painter ?' sez I to myself ; ' did any painter 

 ever run so far before ? ' It come on to be light, and I could see the 

 trail, and it was an all-fired big trail. Presently it got into a cane- 

 brake, and then tuck a turn. Yowler guv tongue. I could hear 

 the canes rattle as he jumped, but the painter broke out on the fur 

 side, and made a bee-line agin right straight for the Ouithlacouchee. 

 " When we got to the river it was noon. I looked down the 

 bank, and saw the tracks along in the mud where the varmint had 

 been lookin' for a good place to cross. Presently I could see where 



