514 BIG GAME OF NORTH AMERICA. 



dense woods fairly vibrate. They soon wake up the echoes 

 of the far-off hills, as they speedily close up the distance 

 between them and the old plantigrade, who is now begin- 

 ning to realize that he is about " to be caught out in a hard 

 shower," and had best betake himself to shelter, which he 

 does by scaling the largest tree within reach. He is none 

 too soon, for the seemingly wild and furious demons are 

 already at the roots of the tree ere he has reached a place 

 of concealment. 



Finding that the 'Coon has gone up the tree, the tones of 

 the hounds change from the musical bawl to sharp, defiant 

 barks, plainly announcing the fact that they have treed, 

 and need our assistance. An encouraging "tally-ho" tells 

 them we are coming. Now it is a blind race to the dogs — 

 every fellow for himself — through brush, over fallen logs; 

 stubbing our toes against grubs or twisted roots; bat- 

 ting our heads against saplings that we didn't, or perhaps 

 couldn't, see; or, if your course lay, for a time, in an old 

 road, plunging from ankle-deep to knee-deep in water and 

 mud. Such is the wild race, and no one is worse for the 

 wear. Indeed, who ever heard of a real enthusiastic 

 ' Coon-hunter getting seriously hurt while marching on the 

 double-quick to the exciting music of the hounds. No mat- 

 ter how dark the night, or how many wild grape-vine tan- 

 gles he may encounter, or how rough the ground he passes 

 over, he lands at the tree, "top side up, with care," every 

 time. 



I once hit a young hunting-friend a severe blow, with the 

 muzzle of a long, twelve-pound rifle, across the eyebrows, 

 felling him to the ground; but he claimed that "it didn't 

 hurt him a bit," although his left eye was black for a week. 

 We had put up a 'Coon with our hounds, one dark night, 

 on a large, tall red oak, and had built a rousing fire 

 near the roots of the tree, to keep us comfortable until day- 

 light, when we would be able to locate and shoot the ' Coon. 

 On the approach of daylight, I saw the old corn-stealer 

 high up in the tree, and knew that from its position it 

 was likely to fall, when shot, right into our fire. 



