the woods and rivers produce his chief dainties, and his toils are his pleasures.
Now mark him! the bold Kentuckian is on his feet; his sons and
the stranger prepare for the march. Horns and rifles are in requisition.
The goodman opens the wooden-hinged door, and sends forth a blast
loud enough to scare a wolf. The racoons scamper away from the cornfields,
break through the fences, and hie to the woods. The hunter has
taken an axe from the wood-pile, and returning, assures us that the night
is clear, and that we shall have rare sport. He blows through his rifle,
to ascertain that it is clear, examines his flint, and thrusts a feather into
the touch-hole. To a leathern bag swung at his side is attached a powderhorn
; his sheathed knife is there also ; below hangs a narrow strip of
home-spun linen. He takes from his bag a bullet, pulls with his teeth
the wooden stopper from his powder-horn, lays the ball on one hand, and
with the other pours the powder upon it until it is just overtopped.
Raising the horn to his mouth, he again closes it with the stopper, and
restores it to its place. He introduces the powder into the tube; springs
the box of his gun, greases the " patch" over with some melted tallow, or
damps it; then places it on the honeycombed muzzle of his piece. The
bullet is placed on the patch over the bore, and pressed with the handle of
the knife, which now trims the edges of the linen. The elastic hickory
rod, held with both hands, smoothly pushes the ball to its bed: once,
twice, thrice has it rebounded. The rifle leaps as it were into the hunter's
arms, the feather is drawn from the touch-hole, the powder fills the
pan, which is closed. " Now I'm ready," cries the woodsman. His companions
say the same. Hardly more than a minute has elapsed. I wish,
Reader, you had seen this fine fellow—but hark ! the dogs are barking.
All is now bustle within and without: a servant lights a torch, and
off we march to the woods. " Don't mind the boys, my dear sir," says
the woodsman, " follow me close, for the ground is covered with logs, and
the grape vines hang everywhere across." " Toby, hold up the light,
man, or we'll never see the gullies." " Trail your gun, sir, as General
CLARK used to say,—not so, but this way—that's it; now then, no danger
you see; no fear of snakes, poor things ! They are stiff enough, I'll
be bound. The dogs have treed one. Toby, you old fool, why don't
you turn to the right—not so much there—go a-head, and give us light
What's that ?—Who's there ?—Ah, you young rascals ! you've played
us a trick, have you. It's all well enough, but now, just keep behind,
o r I'll" and in fact, the boys, with eyes good enough to see in the
dark, although not quite so well as an Owl's, had cut directly across the
dogs, which had surprised a racoon on the ground and bayed it, until the
lads knocked it on the head. " Seek him, boys," cries the hunter.—The
dogs, putting their noses to the ground, pushed off at a good rate.
" Master, they're making for the creek," says old Toby. On towards it
therefore we push. What woods, to be sure ! No gentleman's park this,
I assure you, Reader. We are now in a low flat; the soil thinly covers
the hard clay ; nothing but beech trees hereabouts, unless now and then
a maple. Hang the limbs ! say I—hang the supple-jacks too—here I
am, fast by the neck—cut it with your knife. My knee has had a tremendous
rub against a log—now, my foot is jammed between two roots
—and here I stick. " Toby, come back—don't you know the stranger
is not up to the woods. Halloo, Toby, Toby !" There I stood perfectly
shackled, the hunter laughing heartily, and the lads glad of an opportunity
of slipping off. Toby arrived, and held the torclvnear the ground, on
which the hunter cutting one of the roots with his hatchet, set me free.
" Are you hurt, Sir ?"—no, not in the least. Off we start again. The
boys had got up with the dogs, which were baying a Racoon in a small
puddle. We soon joined them with the light. " Now, stranger! watch and
see!" The Racoon was all but swimming, and yet had hold of the bottom
of the pool with his feet. The glare of the lighted torch was doubtless
distressing to him ; his coat was ruffled, and his rounded tail seemed
thrice its ordinary size, his eyes shone like emeralds; with foaming jaws
he watched the dogs, ready to seize each by the snout if it came within
reach. They kept him busy for several minutes ; the water became thick
with mud; his coat now hung dripping, and his draggled tail lay floating
on the surface. His guttural growlings, in place of intimidating his assailants,
excited them the more; and they very unceremoniously closed
upon him, curs as they were, and without the breeding of gentle dogs !
One seized him by the rump and tugged, but was soon forced to let go;
another stuck to his side, but soon taking a better directed bite of his
muzzle than another dog had just done of his tail, coon made him yelp;
and pitiful were the cries of luckless Tyke. The Racoon would not
let go, but in the mean time the other dogs seized him fast, and worried
him to death, yet to the last he held by his antagonist's snout. Knocked
on the head by an axe, he lay gasping his last breath, and the heaving