PETE'S COON. 



427 



terrific clip, as he always does at the sound 

 of my gun, and we were soon gloating to- 

 gether over our fallen quarry. Had we not 

 earned it? 



Taking the pelt of our victim and the 

 camera, we escaped with difficulty from the 

 clutches of the delighted farmer to seek the 

 home fireside and talk it over. 



I returned the photographic outfit to its 

 owner with a warning as to the care of its 

 precious contents and a request for a proof 



of the picture at an early date. In 2 days 

 it came, by mail, the artist evidently not 

 daring to face the results of a personal en- 

 counter. It consisted of 20 square inches 

 of plain white railway embankment with the 

 butts of 2 maple trees starting out of the 

 upper left corner. That was all. In shoot- 

 ing parlance, I had held too high, had over- 

 shot the mark, and my name did not ap- 

 pear among the winners in Recreation's 

 photographic competition. 



PETE'S COON. 



SYDNEY B. CARPENDER. 



Hyar we go! 



Fus' high, den low ; 

 A-sizzlin' thro' de bramble ; 



Des hyar Pete holler ! 



Dars fun ter foller. 

 O it mak my innerds scramble. 



O Lawd, what fun ! 



Doan' want no gun, 

 Ner ornery spike-tail pinter ; 



Des gimme ole Pete, 



He de bes' dorg meat 

 Dis side er de place you gwine ter. 



When we gits out, 

 Yuh kin hyar we shout, 



Plum ter de bad place an' furder ; 

 An' all de coons 

 Des sees three moons, 



An' jump dey skins. O murder! 



Des listen ter Pete! 



Dat mean coon meat 

 Fer brekfus' an' fer dinner; 



So hyar we go ! 



Hunt high, hunt low, 

 O Lawd ! des hyar dat sinner ! 



Lock ! Look ! Dar he ! 



In de ole gum tree ! 

 Des see dat fool dorg race ! 



Des wait erwhile, 



Mister Coon'll smile 

 F'um de udder side er he face. 



Hyar yo' fool nigger! 



Ef yo' wuz bigger, 

 I'd er th'ashed you' good an' hard 



Des gimme dat ax ! 



In erbout fo' cracks 

 We'll have coon ready fer de lard. 



Lickety split ! 



Dats how ter hit ! 

 Git in dar, Pete— What dat? 



Well I'll be cussed, 



Ef dat ain't de wust ! 

 Nuffin' but er ole Tom cat ! 



First Youth — That was a great tragedy, 

 wasn't it? Did you take your parents to 

 see it? 



Second Youth — Oh, no ! They are too 

 old for that sort of thing. They went to 

 a farce comedy. — Life. 



