112 



RECREATION. 



oak an' bark er fallin' an' th' dog bust 

 out er bayin'. "He's treed, fellers, he's 

 treed!" Mr. Sam hollered; an' in we went 

 till we got clost ter th' dog, an' built er 

 fire outen th' splinters we had left. We 

 could hear th' varmint er breathin' in th' 

 tree like it wuz nearly dead. Pa 'n' Mr. 

 Sam went up mighty keerful an' dreckly 

 they caught 'is eye through th' leaves an' 

 Pa let 'im have one bar'l full in th' face, 

 an' th' thing lit outen th' tree an' hit th' 

 ground kerflam, an' let out th' worst 

 squall I ever hope ter hear, an' kicked an' 

 laid over dead. Ole Ring run ter 'im an' 

 grabbed 'im by th' neck an' shook 'im 

 mighty fierce, but th' pore ole varmint 

 wuz done dead. It wuz er catamount, an' 

 th' biggest, they al sed, they ever seen. 

 He wuz big as ole Ring, 'cept his tail, an' 

 it wuz mighty little. He had turrible bad 

 claws, an' ole Ring got clawed up purty 

 bad when they tangled in th' palmetter. 

 We cut er pole an' Pa 'n' Mr. Sam toted 

 'im ter camp, which wer'n't over er quar- 

 ter. The moon wuz er shinin' bright, an' 

 we sot up er little while lookin' at th' ole 

 cat. Ring wuz mighty proud in spite uv 

 gettin' clawed, an' sot 'round big as Ike. 

 I reckon it wuz 10 o'clock when we hit 



th' bed, an' I went ter sleep an' dreamt 

 I caught er catamount in one uv my traps. 

 Nex' mornin' me 'n' Mr. Sam got up 

 soon an' wuz in th' hummock time it wuz 

 light 'nuff ter shoot, fer we wanted ter 

 git er mess uv cat squir'ls fer breakfast. 

 Th' hummock wuz ez purty I ever seen, 

 mostly live oak an' hick'ry an' cabbage 

 palmetter. Th' squir'ls wuz ever'where, 

 look like; I never seen 'em so thick any- 

 wheres else. Ever' minute th' leaves 

 would jar when th' squir'ls wuz jumpin' in 

 th' cabbage trees. One run down er tree 

 right at me, an' barked th' sassiest kind. 

 He wuz so clost I couldn't shot 'im 'thout 

 tearin' 'im all ter pieces, so Mr. Sam sez, 

 "Lemme knock 'is head off with th' rifle," 

 an' he cracks down on 'im, an' th' little 

 ole squir'l jest natchelly tore th' bark off 

 th' tree er climbin' an' hid hisself in er 

 holler. I had to laff, an' Mr. Sam wuz 

 shore chawed, an' went ter lookin' 'is gun 

 over, an' sez, "By grabs, no wonder I 

 never got 'im," an' shore 'nuff th' sights 

 wuz sot fer 150 yards. I wuz sorter glad 

 th' little feller got erway, he was so purty; 

 but there wuz plenty more uv 'em, an' I 

 wouldn't fool you. In er little while we 

 had 14 an' quit an' went ter camp. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY A. EMERINE, JR. 



THAT OLD-TIME SNAKE STORY. 

 Highly Commended in Recreation's 5th Annual Photo Competition. 



