66 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
must climb the loftiest of the hoary trees, and that with a 
lithe daring that would have curdled soberer blood. 
With the winter came new sports, more hardy still—the 
long night hunts by stealth with the younger darkies and 
their little cur dogs, for the sulky “’Possum.” That was 
great sport to begin with—for we seldom ventured far from 
the skirts of the plantation for fear of getting lost, and we 
were not yet old enough to be promoted to sharing the dan- 
gerous honors of the Coon hunt with the grown negroes, 
because we could not keep,up with their weary tramps. 
But the "Possum hunt was our own affair, and well we 
knew to manage it among ourselves. It all had to be done 
very quietly; and if a dog barked before we got clear out of 
ear-shot of the “Big House,” he got well kicked for it by all 
in reach—black or white. We dreaded betrayal in the least 
sound; and even the chunk of fire carried by the biggest 
darkie, was carefully sheltered by our hats and bodies, lest 
its tell-tale gleam might be seen. Once round the turn and 
fairly in the woods, we breathed freely, and might venture to 
raise our voices from the eager whispers of consultation to 
the more decided tones of decision and command—encouraging 
each other and the dogs: for “outer-darkness” is a great 
damper upon both boys and dogs! 
Now we may cheer, and even whoop, as we are beginning 
to enter the old field, where the persimmons grow, and wild 
grapes mat, with their strong tendrils, the scrubby thickets. 
Here the “possums” resort to feast upon the fruits, and the 
“old har” keeps his form, too, in the long grass and briar 
patches; and every now and then, with a sudden burst of 
screeching yelps, the little curs break away after a bounding 
fellow, which they soon lose in the thickets. We do not care 
for these interruptions, for the little dogs cannot trail them 
far, and soon lose them in doubling through the briars. We 
have no fear that the noise they make will spoil our sport a 
