THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 189 
known brook on the continent. Four separate times 
I had been persuaded by false and flattering words 
to climb slippery trees after imaginary coons, with a 
lantern fastened round my neck. 
This time my friends assured me there could be no 
mistake. Both Grip and Gyp, the experts of the 
pack, had their fore-paws against an enormous 
tulip tree which stood apart from all others. In order 
that there might be no possible mistake, black Uncle 
Zeke, the leader of the hunt, who knew most of the 
coons in those woods by their first names, agreed to 
“shine”’ this particular coon. Lighting a lantern, he 
held it behind his head, staring fixedly up into the 
tree as he did so. Sure enough, in a minute, far up 
along the branches gleamed two green spots. Those 
were the eyes of the coon, staring down at the light. 
It was impossible to climb this tree, so we built a fire 
and waited for daylight. 
Dawn found us regarding a monster coon crouched 
in the branches some forty or fifty feet up. Uncle 
Zeke produced a cherished shot-gun. The barrel had 
once burst, by reason of the muzzle being accident- 
ally plugged with mud, and had been thereafter cut 
down, so that it was less than a foot in length. In 
spite of its misfortune, Uncle Zeke assured us that 
it was still a wonderful shooter. We scattered and 
gave him a free field. In a properly conducted coon- 
hunt, a coon, like a fox, must be killed*by dogs or 
not at all. Uncle Zeke told us that this one, as soon 
as he heard the shot, although uninjured, would 
come down, like Davy Crockett’s coon. 
