A BEAR IN DIFFICULTY. 201 



"A wolf's got two long fore-toes on each foot, d'ye see?" 

 pointing to the mark on a piece of clay soil, where the animal had 

 leaped over a pool of water, leaving a deep scratch on each side 

 that showed plainly the formation of his foot; "he passed some 

 time in the night; they are great travellers, they be, and like 

 enough he's now on Topolika Eiver." 



A little creek ran into the island, containing about an inch of 

 water at low tide, but into which, with the flood-tide, fish were 

 accustomed to feed, and the shores of this inlet, at its narrowest 

 part, were strewed with the heads and tails of small fish, such as 

 the young of bass and redfish, while the whole shore was tracked 

 with the prints of some animal. We stopped before the signs, and 

 Scipio, his natural instincts fully alive, exclaimed — 



" Gi ! dere be shocks ob coons here o' nights fishin'." 



A closer examination satisfied me that such was the case, and 

 that some raccoons were in the habit of repairing here when the 

 tide was ebbing, and heading off the fish that had ascended the 

 stream, to seize them on their return to the sea. Scipio and 

 Caesar consulted long over the marks, with an air of much import- 

 ance, and then informed us that such was " de fac'." Moreover, 

 Scipio assured me that he had seen, on moonlight nights, raccoons 

 engaged in these industrious pursuits, and standing knee-deep in 

 the retiring tide, using their broad fore-paws for hands, scoop out 

 the fish and throw them far up on the beach, while a fellow-fisher 

 of the same family, wading down the creek from above, with 

 splash and squeal, would drive the fish into the very paws of their 

 cunning foe. Caesar indorsed the same story, which I would 

 readily believe from the nature of the animal, but which I cannot 

 think that Scip and Caesar ever had the forbearance to watch, 

 while they had the means of pouncing on the raccoons. 



Not far from the creek lay a hollow log that Scipio judged 

 might be the resort of his friends, the raccoons, and, trimming a 

 willow stick for a probe, after one or two careful examinations 

 into the different knot-holes, he began a vigorous series of punches, 

 while Caesar stood at the end with a club elevated to knock over 

 the prize. Instead of a raccoon, to our great amusement out slid 

 a huge rattlesnake, disturbed in his morning nap, and shaking his 



