THE SHOO TIN' MATCH AT DAD'S. 



233 



The thunder crashed among the heavy pine 

 timber, the lightning annihilated the inky 

 blackness for seconds at a time, and a del- 

 uge of rain soon flooded the tent in spite 

 of the gallant efforts of the little ditch to 

 carry off the surplus water. Scraning up 

 the pine straw bed so as to make a mound, 

 the A. T.'s piled everything perishable on 

 top, covering all with the blankets. The 

 wind rose and blew in the open front of 

 the tent, puffing it out like a balloon, and 

 threatening to take the whole outfit up bv 

 the roots. The unfortunate Trappers no 

 longer attempted to keep dry, but bent their 

 entire energy toward the protection of the 

 mess box, ammunition, etc., that would not 



benefit by being diluted with water. Hang- 

 ing by both hands to the ridgepole, Mose 

 successfully resisted the wind, while Uncle 

 Snap defended the pile of stuff on the pine 

 straw, shielding it with his body, from the 

 streams of water that trickled through the 

 roof. 



By midnight the storm had passed, the 

 provisions and ammunition were saved, but 

 the bedding and all the clothing in camp 

 was soaked ; so the A. T.'s built a great 

 pine knot fire, and stretching a rope, hung 

 the wet goods up to dry. While they were 

 drying, the Trappers played casino to see 

 who got the wettest, and by 3 o'clock they 

 were in bed again, warm and dry. 



THE SHOOTIN' MATCH AT DAD'S. 



W. P. CHADWICK. 



The wind was blowin' from the East; 



'Twas just such dirty weather 

 That 'twant no use at all to look 



For fur or fin or feather. 

 But 'twas on this unlucky day 



Three dudes came from the city, 

 With dcgs and guns and flasks of rye, 



Oh, wasn't that a pity ! 



One chap was fair and short and fat, 



And one was dark and lank and lean; 

 The other lad was nothin' much — 



You might say he was 'twixt and 'tween. 

 They all had caps and cartridge straps, 



And all were loose and free of speech ; 

 They all had them newfangled guns 



That load up at the breech. 



They hunted over all Dad's farm. 



Their dogs treed our old mouser 

 And raised a ruction all around 



'Till they got chawed by Towser. 

 They called Dad out to see their guns, 



But Dad he wasn't much impressed, 

 He said that with his old smooth bore 



He'd beat 'em all or he'd be blessed. 



They set a mark at 40 yards, 



'Twas half a broken platter. 

 The long man with the Parker says, 



"You fellers watch me bat her." 

 He squinted long to get an aim 



And finally he loosed her, 

 He never touched the mark at all, 



But killed our Shanghai rooster. 



The short man stepped up to the scratch 



And fired his Syracuse, 

 He fairly scotched our breedin' sow, 



She run squealin' like the deuce. 

 The other feller had a pump 



And when he pumped she jammed, 

 He broke his jackknife fixin' her 



And, says he, "Marlin be !" 



Then Daddy took the old smooth bore 



And, after she had been capped. 

 He pulled both triggers on the mark, 



And, dam it all, she snapped. 

 It took an hour to ream her out, 



Although she wasn't loaded. 

 Mud wasps had filled her end to end, 



That's why she hadn't 'sploded. 



The dudes they nearly died a-laughin', 



And I, too, had to snicker, 

 And Dad he got as crazy mad 



As if he'd been in liquor. . 

 He sicked old Towser on the dudes 



And fairly ran 'em off the place, 

 And yanked me round behind the barn 



And licked me with a wagon trace. 



