266 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



"There's two of 'em!" yelled John Clark, as two knots 

 of dogs were seen, but it turned out that one knot was 

 merely a little scrapping of a couple of dogs among them- 

 selves, perhaps occasioned by one dog's jealousy of the 

 other fellow. The 'coon broke away and ran up a limb, 

 and a rifle ball dropped him. And then such a row! 

 Every dog had hold of him, and a man had hold of every 

 dog's tail, and each dog got a kick in the ribs to admon- 

 ish him that a fallen foe should be respected. I thought 

 of the old story: "Never strike a man when he is down," 

 said Mulcahy. "Never," replied O'Hooligan; "just 

 sock the boots to him." 



The 'coon was not badly mangled after all this; the 

 dogs were chewed up much worse. It reminded me of 

 Corny Lannigan, one of my father's ship carpenters, 

 when father said to him one morning: "Cornelius, you 

 must have had some trouble last night; your eyes are 

 blacked, and your nose is all plastered over." 



"Yes, Captain," said Corny; "there was a little mis- 

 understanding, but you ought to go up to the hospital 

 and see the other fellow;" and I then remembered read- 

 ing that the great General, Pyrrhus, once said: "Another 

 such a victory and I am ruined." 



Another 'coon was started, and was finally found in a 

 tree by the water, whose base had been so washed that it 

 leaned out over Grant River. After lighting a fire and 

 consulting as to the mode of attack, Frank offered to go 

 up the leaning tree and shake the 'coon off, while the 

 dogs were to be held so as to see him drop, and then be 

 loosed to tackle him in the water. The plan worked 

 well. The 'coon dropped at the first shake, and so did 

 Frank. The dogs rushed in, but no man dared shoot, 

 and after a short fight in the water and on the other shore 

 the dogs came back, and we went home. 



