46o AUDUBON 



and should the shooters amount to half a dozen, two nails 

 are frequently needed before each can have a shot. Those 

 who drive the nail have a further trial amongst themselves, 

 and the two best shots out of these generally settle the 

 affair, when all the sportsmen adjourn to some house, and 

 spend an hour or two in friendly intercourse, appointing, 

 before they part, a day for another trial. This is technically 

 termed driving the nail. 



Barking off Squirrels is delightful sport, and in my 

 opinion requires a greater degree of accuracy than any 

 other. I first witnessed this manner of procuring Squirrels 

 whilst near the town of Frankfort. The performer was 

 the celebrated Daniel Boone. We walked out together, 

 and followed the rocky margins of the Kentucky River, 

 until we reached a piece of flat land thickly covered with 

 black walnuts, oaks, and hickories. As the general mast 

 was a good one that year. Squirrels were seen gambolling 

 on every tree around us. My companion, a stout, hale, 

 and athletic man, dressed in a homespun hunting-shirt, 

 bare-legged and moccasined, carried a long and heavy rifle, 

 which, as he was loading it, he said had proved efficient 

 in all his former undertakings, and which he hoped would 

 not fail on this occasion, as he felt proud to show me his 

 skill. The gun was wiped, the powder measured, the ball 

 patched with six-hundred-thread linen, and the charge 

 sent home with a hickory rod. We moved not a step from 

 the place, for the Squirrels were so numerous that it was 

 unnecessary to go after them. Boone pointed to one of 

 these animals which had observed us, and was crouched 

 on a branch about fifty paces distant, and bade me mark 

 well the spot where the ball should hit. He raised his 

 piece gradually, until the bead (that being the name given 

 by the Kentuckians to the sight) of the barrel was brought 

 to a line with the spot which he intended to hit. The 

 whip-like report resounded through the woods and along 

 the hills, in repeated echoes. Judge of my surprise when 



