620 
hand all three nosed it, their intelligent eyes 
sparkling in homage; and the long, sinuous, 
caressing tongue of the shepherd, Tom, curled 
around his hand, touching it lovingly. Nero 
whined; Nero was the foxhound; and an im¬ 
patient eagerness seemed to pass like an electric 
wave from nose to tail. And Fido, the Irish 
Setter, whined and searching the eyes of Daniel, 
backed away from him; pausing, searched the 
eyes again, and then again backed away, still 
holding his eyes as though to read their meaning 
Then his nose swept the ground and he whined, 
seating himself, as though awaiting orders. It 
was a greater sight of fidelity, on the part of the 
“best friends of man” than I had ever wit¬ 
nessed. We needed no more stimulus to in¬ 
spiration and enthusiasm, than this exhibition; 
and I believe that I would have desired to start 
right away had I not remembered supper, and 
the desire to build a firm foundation of friend¬ 
ship with our friend. 
The supper that night was a delight; and 1 
have Daniel’s word for it that it was the best 
meal he had ever sat himself down unto. And 
while we ate we planned our hunt for the night. 
A coon hunt! An actual coon hunt once more, 
■as of yore! The thought set my heart pounding, 
for if there is anything in the world equal to a 
■coon hunt it is the chase of a red fox, when 
the snow lies heavy on the ground, and the air 
is freighted with anticipation. 
A coon hunt! when the leaves are falling or 
have fallen; when the air, at night, is keen, brisk 
and invigorating; as it sets the Flood, the warm, 
throbbing blood to pounding in utter freedom 
through the veins. Then let the moon ride the 
steel-blue heavens above, with occasional fleecy 
clouds to veil its face now and then, and then 
say the dogs are away on the trail, baying in 
medley as the trail becomes hot, and the quarry 
sees the end of its run. 
Eight o’clock that night did not come any too 
soon. But finally it rolled around and we made 
ready for the chase. Naturally we took our 
guns, and with sweaters buttoned up around our 
throats we set out. I was rather ashamed that 
I should wear so much of clothes, when I con¬ 
sidered that Daniel had on only a coat. I of¬ 
fered him my overcoat but he would hear noth¬ 
ing of it, adding that he was so used to being 
out that he had become used to wearing little. 
The night was ideal, with no wind abroad, 
and with the moon lighting up the scene below. 
The dogs, realizing now that they were again 
to be put to the test leaped into the air and 
whined and howled in unbounded glee. It was 
a demonstration good to see. But Daniel had 
these dogs so well trained that chains or rope 
to them were unnecessary as a check to their 
exuberance. They yet hung close to his heels, 
or raced some distance ahead, always however 
coming back. 
We had two camp lanterns with us, and I 
found that while the moon above was bright, 
and perfectly unveiled, yet the added light was 
needed in every sense of the word for in the 
woods there were dense, dark places where one, 
without a light, might fall down and become 
mixed up with his spine. If anyone enjoyed it 
more than Fred I should like to be shown that 
person. Fred talks of those days yet. In the 
mornings usually going to work he gets a fellow 
cornered—O that’s right I have said that once. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Fred was fast learning Daniel to listen to words 
of uncomprehended gender, much to the enjoy¬ 
ment of Daniel. His ruddy face never gleamed 
so with innate amusement: a happiness that 
thrilled him through and through. He was evi¬ 
dently reveling in the glory of the occasion. 
Daniel had a spot located where he said he 
would let the dogs begin. I noticed as we drew 
near this identical locality, the dogs were in a 
great excitement, and they longed to be off and 
away, and yet their master had them so well 
trained, mind you, that they heeded every word 
of his that rang out sharp and clear. But finally 
we reached a point I judged to be over the 
creek and with a word from Daniel off raced 
the dogs with a scurry and a rattling of the 
bushes, and one whine of released exultation 
from the ponderous throat of Nero, the fox¬ 
hound. 
“Just wait now,” uttered Daniel, pausing very 
still; with his ear turned toward the scene of 
the departure. “Just wait now, and if I am not 
mistaken we will have something on the go in 
just about a minute. There is a large coon that 
hangs around the creek here; I have seen his 
tracks in the mud, and if I am not mistaken this 
is just the night he will be out on.” 
It was a moment or two of restrained silence, 
and in that interval the beauty of the occasion 
came upon us. The night was profoundly still; 
and around us lay an obliterating mantle of dark¬ 
ness, the tops of the trees, however, silvered 
by the palpitant moonrays. It was a wilderness 
of darkness, and yet around us seemed to be 
enacted a life of throbbing exictement, for the 
breathless calm held us at least partially spell¬ 
bound. We could hear the dogs, now down at 
the creek, now further up among the woods; the 
rustling of bushes parted, and suddenly, as if in 
answer to the thoughts some time before, spoken 
by Daniel, out burst the ringing, long-drawn, 
startling bay of Nero, prime leader. And on the 
moment there came the yapping bark of Tom, 
the shepherd, but not a sound came from Fido, 
he of the setter blood, the mute trailer of the 
crew. 
Now the night air was shattered by those re¬ 
sounding bays. It was Nero’s battle-cry, ringing 
out over the world of endless tranquilitude; and 
I vaguely wondered if the creatures of wood and 
fen did not, at that first intimation of alien 
presence, shrink deeper into their retreats, thank¬ 
ful to be out of harms reach. And away now we 
went in the direction of the mingled baying and 
yapping, the camp-lanterns throwing a ghostly, 
penetrating radiance out ahead of us, plainly 
showing us the way. And on we went, each 
having something to say, and some intimation 
to offer, either learned, or amateurish, it did not 
matter. 
Daniel I noted had undergone a complete 
change of demeanor. To us he had appeared 
very shy and retiring in his disposition, but now 
the hunter, the woodsman, showed in him; his 
face had lost its smile, and his lips were set in 
grim lines. But the excitement of it there is 
no doubt he felt just as keenly as we. 
“They’re hot on his trail,” he shouted; “They 
are hot on his trail. Hear that old Nero, will 
you? Ain’t that some ringing howl for you? 
Hear that Shepherd; they’re after him. They’re 
after him, in a bunch!” 
Undoubtedly, like Daniel’s version of it, the 
old coon had, in actuality, been down to the 
creek, hunting around after dormant frogs and 
crabs for a midnight supper, when the dogs had 
surprised him. At least they were almost at his 
heels and he had escaped only by a hair and 
was even now sprinting for his dear life across 
the intervening landscape. It was an hour of 
intense animation. As we steadily kept running 
and stopping to listen to get the location of the 
hounds, we could understand without being told 
that the trail was becoming fresher, and the 
quarry closer to hand. Up a sidehill and down, 
with a hurry and a crash we went, the lanterns 
swinging and voices mingling. 
How far we had progressed I do not know. 
At least it would seem over a mile, and well at 
that; but finally, just when the chase was the 
briskest, there came the bark of “treed” from 
Nero, and the continual, rapid-fire yapping of 
the shepherd told the unvarnished tale. 
“They’ve got him; they’ve got him,” yelled 
Daniel, and we broke into another record-break¬ 
ing run that took us to the dominant scene. 
Swinging the lanterns over head we saw the 
dogs gathered around a tree, of dimensions such 
as to cause us every little bit of consternation. 
Nero was endeavoring in the worst way to climb 
the tree, and was digging his claws away into 
the bark in the commencement of an upward 
voyage. 
“Good God,” I uttered, viewing the tree in 
which the racctoon had enscounced himself—“we 
can never get him out of that giant!” 
“It can’t be done,” muttered Fred, going around 
it and feeling of its trunk probably to see if, 
after all, there were not steps there by which to 
ascend. 
“It can be done,” vouchsafed Daniel, with all 
the sprightly confidence of youth. “I tell you 
what you do. I will climb, see. I have climbed 
hundreds of trees worser than this. You get a 
long pole and hoist the lantern on it, see? As 
high as you can. In that way you can light me.” 
“I’ll do that,” I said and in practically no time 
I had a long slim pole, with a crotch on the end 
of it; and Fred had another garnered in for the 
other lantern. Between us, lifting these above 
us, we lighted up the perilous route. In the 
meantime Daniel had set a crotched log against 
the tree in question and started climbing this up 
to the first wee, insignificant limb, there to get a 
precarious foothold, for it was certainly the most 
unsafe proposition I have ever seen. But he 
made it; how, I cannot begin to explain, and 
after that, with an agility that was native born 
in him, he slipped out of sight upward. After 
that came no word, in the laborious task of 
climbing, but we heard him moving around above. 
I suggested the use of the lantern to be drawn 
up, but he said, no, he could make out the coon 
if he was there. 
We waited breathlessly, while the dogs, 
trained, kept their ears and eyes alert for move¬ 
ment above. Daniel shinned up one section of 
the tree, shook various limbs, but with no suc¬ 
cess. But in the other section he struck the 
coon. 
“Here he is, here he is!” he shouted exul¬ 
tantly. “Get the dogs around toward this other 
side. See! here I am.” He lit a match, to let 
us know his location. Instantly the dogs were 
there arranged, and we called out that every¬ 
thing was ready for business. 
