Camp and Trail: A Story of the Maine Woods

by Isabel Hornibrook

  CHAPTER V.

  A COON HUNT.

  A razzle-dazzle fight it surely was! On one side of the camp, betweenthe camping-ground, which Uncle Eb had cleared with many a backache, andthe woods, was a narrow strip covered with a stunted, prickly growth ofwild raspberry bushes and tiny cherry-trees. These had sprung up afterthe pines had been cut down, as soon as the sun peeped at thelong-hidden earth.

  Into it the bare-legged trio dared not venture, knowing that they wouldget a worse scratching and tearing than if the coon itself mauled them.

  But they could see and hear a whirling, howling, clawing, spitting,rough-and-tumble conflict going on in the midst of this miniaturejungle.

  "Whew! Whew!" gasped Cyrus. "Here's your first sight of a wild coon,boys. I wish to goodness it had been a different sight, but I suppose hemust pay for his thieving."

  "Tiger'll make him do dat. Bet yer life he will! He's death on coons, ifever a dog was," yelled Uncle Eb, gambolling with excitement, his eyesbulging and widening until they looked like oysters on the shell.

  The soft, battered, gray felt hat which replaced his fur cap in thedaytime surged off his gray wool, and frisked gently away towards thecamp-fire. There, coming in contact with a red ember, it scorched andshrivelled into smoking, smelling ashes, all unnoticed in the tumult ofthe fight.

  Whirling round and round, now under, now over, dog and coon rolledpresently forth from the bushes, nearer to the feet of the spectators.Then Neal and Dol could get a clearer view of the strange animal. Abreeze of exclamations came from them, mingling with the yelping,snarling, and clucking of the combatants.

  "Good gracious! Look at the stout body and funny little legs of thefellow!"

  "Doesn't he fight like a spitfire?"

  "I'm glad he's not clawing me!"

  "He's not much like any picture of a raccoon I ever saw in a NaturalHistory!"

  "I guess he wouldn't resemble them greatly, especially in that attitude,Dol," said Cyrus, as soon as there was a lull in the boys' comments.

  The raccoon had now rolled on his back, and was fighting so fiercelywith teeth and claws that a despairing cry broke from Uncle Eb,--

  "Yah! He's makin' Tiger's wool fly!"

  It was then that the old guide began to deliberate about rushing forwardand despatching his coonship with the butt end of his rifle. Cyrus wouldgladly have stopped the tussle long before, for there was too muchsavagery about it to suit him; but he could only have done so bystunning or killing one of the combatants.

  A heart-rending howl from Tiger. The coon had caught him by his lowerjaw. Uncle Eb, clutching his empty rifle like a club, was starting tothe rescue, when the dog with a sudden, desperate jerk freed himself.Mad with rage and pain, he tried to seize the raccoon's throat. But hisenemy managed to elude the strangling grip, and getting on his feet,again caught Tiger, this time by the cheek, causing another agonizingyelp.

  Now, however, the undaunted dog whirled round and round with suchrapidity as to make Mr. Coon relax his hold, and, gathering all hisstrength, flung the wild animal off to a distance of several feet.

  Probably the raccoon felt that he had enough of the conflict, and wasdoubtful about its final issue. He seized the chance for escape. Whilethe spectators gasped with excitement, they beheld him, with his headdoubled under his stomach, roll over and over like a huge grayIndia-rubber ball, until he reached the nearest tree, which happened tobe one of the young pines that shaded the camp. Quick as lightning heclimbed up its trunk, uttering a second shrill, far-reaching cry of onenote.

  "Listen! Listen, fellows!" cried Cyrus. "That raccoon is aventriloquist. The cry seemed to come from somewhere far above him. Ihad a tame coon long ago, and I often heard him call like that. I tellyou he's a ventriloquist, and a mighty clever one too.

  "The one piercing note was to warn his mate," went on the naturalist,after a moment's pause; "or in all probability, though we have beenspeaking of the animal as 'he,' it is really a female, for I have heardthat peculiar call given more frequently by a mother to warn her cubs."

  All that could now be seen of the animal--on whose gender new light hadbeen cast--was a gray ball curled up on a tasselled bough near the topof the pine-tree, and a glimpse of a black nose over the edge of thelimb.

  "Wal! 'tain't no matter wedder de critter is a male or a fimmale; I'ma-goin' to bring it down from dar mighty quick," said Uncle Eb, fumblingwith the cartridge-box which was attached to his broad leather belt, andpreparing to load his rifle, while he cast murderous looks aloft.

  "No, you don't, then!" said Cyrus hotly. "The creature has foughtpluckily, and it deserves to get a fair chance for its life. I'll seethat it does too. You oughtn't to be hard on it for liking pork, UncleEb."

  "Coons will be gittin' into eatin' order soon," murmured the guide,smacking his lips, and handling his gun undecidedly. "Roast coon's aheap better'n roast lamb."

  "Well, they're not in eating order yet, and won't be till next month,"answered Garst. "Come, you've got to let this one go, Uncle Eb, toplease me."

  "Tell ye wot: I'll call Tiger off" (Tiger was alternately licking hiswounds and baying furiously for vengeance about the tree which shelteredhis enemy), "den, wen de coon finds de place clear, bime-by he'll lightdown from dat limb, I'll start off de dog, and let 'em finish de gameatween 'em."

  Cyrus considered for a minute, then decided that on the coon's behalf hemight safely accept the compromise.

  "Let's get into our clothes, fellows!" he cried to Neal and Dol. "Nowwe're going to have some fair fun! I guess there won't be any morefighting; and I want you to see how cunningly the raccoon will cheat thedog and escape, if he gets an even chance."

  In five minutes the trio were out of their blankets and in theirordinary day apparel. The old guide had hung the wet tweeds to dry bythe blazing camp-fire before he started out to visit his traps,carefully stretching them to prevent their "swunking" (shrinking). Thusthey were again fit for wear.

  A half-hour of waiting ensued, during which every one was on the tiptoeof expectation. They had all withdrawn to some distance from the tree.Uncle Eb had been obliged to drag Tiger away, and was bathing his cutsout of the camp water-bucket in a shady corner. The dog, recognizingthat he was a patient, submitted without a growl or budge, until hismaster, who had been keeping a keen eye on that pine-tree, suddenlyloosed him, and started him off afresh with a loud "Whoop-ee!" and a--

  "Ketch him, Tiger! ketch him!"

  The coon had "lighted down."

  Away went the wild creature into the woods. Away after him, went dog,guide, student, and boys, plunging, tumbling, rushing alonghelter-skelter, with a yell on every lip.

  "There he is! See him? That gray ball rolling over and over!" shoutedCyrus. "I'll tell you what, now; he's going to resort to his cleverdodge of 'barking a tree.' There never was a general yet who could beata coon for strategy in making a retreat."

  The forest surrounding the eminence on which Uncle Eb's camp wassituated consisted mostly of pines, with here and there the brilliantautumn foliage of a maple or birch showing amid the evergreens. Thetrees down the sides of the hill were not densely crowded, but grew inirregular clumps instead of an unbroken mass. This, of course, affordeda better opportunity for the pursuers to catch glimpses of the fugitiveanimal.

  On finding that it was again chased, the raccoon at first took shelterin a dense thicket of scrub oak, which formed in places a tangledundergrowth. Tiger quickly followed up its trail, and it was driventhence.

  Then Cyrus and the boys caught sight of it spinning over and over like aball, towards a maple-tree with widely projecting limbs and thickfoliage; for it knew well that in speed it was no match for the dog, andtherefore resorted to a neat little stratagem. The next minute, beinghotly pressed, it scrambled up the friendly trunk.

  "He's treed again, yonkers! Come on!" shouted the guide, indifferent tothe creature's probable gender.

  Tiger sat on his haunches at the foot of the maple, setting up a slow,steady bark.

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sp; "Keep where you are, fellows! Watch the other side of the tree!"whispered Cyrus, his face twitching with excitement.

  In his character of naturalist he had managed to find out more aboutthe coon's various dodges than even the old guide had done.

  In breathless wonder the Farrars presently beheld that ingenious raccoonsteal along to the end of the most projecting limb on a different sideof the tree from the one it had climbed, so that a screen of boughs andthe trunk were between it and its adversary.

  Then it noiselessly dropped from the tip of the branch to the ground,alighting, like a skilled acrobat, on its shoulders, doubled its pointedblack nose under its stomach, and again rolled over and over for aconsiderable distance, when it got on its short legs and scurried away,while Tiger still bayed at the foot of the maple-tree, thinking thevanished prey was above.

  "That's what I called the coon's dodge of 'barking a tree,'" said Cyrus."Don't you see, when hard pressed, he runs up the trunk, leaving hisscent on the bark; then he creeps to the other side under cover of thefoliage, and drops quietly to the ground. So he breaks the scent andcheats the dog."

  "Good gracious!" exclaimed Neal with an expressive whistle.

  "Perhaps it's because of his long gray hairs that he has so muchwisdom," Dol suggested.

  "A bright idea, Chick!" chuckled the student, tapping the boy'sshoulder.

  "We keep on speaking of him as 'he' when you said the thing was probablya female," put in Neal.

  "That doesn't matter. I'm not certain. Look at old Tiger! He's havingfits now that he has discovered how he's been tricked."

  The dog was circling out from the tree, with wild, uncertain movements,nosing everywhere. Presently he struck the scent again, and darted offlike a streak.

  But the raccoon had by this time reached a dark stream of water whichcoursed through the over-arching forest at the foot of the hill, as ifit was flowing through a tunnel. Here this astute animal crossed andrecrossed under the gloom of interlocking trees, mid dense undergrowth,until its trail was altogether lost.

  Tiger, having further "fits," nosing about, darting hither and thither,venting short, baffled barks, finally gave up in despair.

  The pursuing party turned back to camp.

  "Did ye ever see ennyting to ekal de cunnin' o' de critter," said UncleEb gloomily; "runnin' up dat tree on'y to jump off, so as he'd break descent an' fool de dog? Ye'll learn a heap o' queer tings in dese woods,chillun, 'fore ye get t'rough," he added, addressing the English lads.

  "We've learned queerer things than we ever imagined or dreamed of,already, Uncle Eb," Neal answered.

  Meanwhile, Cyrus and Dol had begun to discuss the size of the escapedcoon.

  "I should think it measured about two feet from the tip of its nose tothe beginning of the tail, and that would add ten or eleven inches.Probably it weighed over thirty pounds," said the experienced Garst.

  "A fine tail it had too!" answered Dol; "all ringed with black andbuff--not black and white as the books say. There was hardly an inch ofwhite about the animal anywhere. Its thick gray hair was marked here andthere with black; wasn't it, Cy?"

  "Rather with a darker shade of gray, bordering on black. I think oldTiger can testify that the creature had capable teeth; and it possessesa goodly number of them--forty in all; that's only two less than a bear,an animal that might make six of it in size."

  "Whew! No wonder it's a good fighter!" ejaculated Dol.

  "But the funniest of the coon's or--to give the animal its propername--the raccoon's funny habits is, that while it eats anything andeverything, it souses all meat in water before beginning a feed. That'swhat it would have done with our bit of pork,--dragged it to a stream,and washed it well before swallowing a morsel.

  "I caught glimpses of a raccoon chasing a jack-rabbit in this verysection of the woods, last year," went on the student, seeing that Dolwas breathlessly listening. "The big animal killed the little one undera dead limb; and I traced its tracks through some mud, where it tuggedthe rabbit to the brink of the nearest brook to be dipped and devoured.

  "After the meal, Mr. Coon halted on an old bit of stump as gray ashimself, close to where I lay under cover, trying to get a peep at hisoperations, but, unluckily, in my excitement I touched a bush, and brokea twig not as big as my little finger. I tell you he just jumped offthat stump as if it scorched him, and disappeared."

  "What about that tame coon you owned, Cy?" Dol asked. "You haven't gothim now."

  "Bless your heart, I should think not!" Here the student indulged in achuckle of mirth. "That coon was the fun and bane of my life. No fearof my being dull while I had him! I had him as a present, when he wasonly a cub, from a man out here who is my special chum among woodsmen,Herb Heal, the guide in whose company we're going to explore for moose,and the soundest fellow in wind, limb, and temper that ever I had theluck to meet. I guess you English boys will say the same when you knowhim.

  "Well! when my friend Herb bestowed upon me that baby raccoon, I calledthe little innocent 'Zip,' and kept him in-doors, letting him roam atwill. But after he grew to manhood, I was obliged to banish him to ouryard and chain him up; and there his piteous, sky-piercing calls, whichseemed to come from the roof of a house near him, first showed me what aventriloquist the animal can be."

  "Why on earth did you banish him?" asked Neal.

  "Because his plan of campaign, when loose, was to follow me about like adevoted cat, climbing over me whenever he got the chance, with slobberyfondness. But as soon as I was out of the way he'd steal every mortalthing I possessed, from my most precious instruments to my latest tieand handkerchiefs. I never saw anything to equal his ingenuity inferreting out such articles, and his incorrigible mischief in destroyingthem. I chained him in the yard after he had torn my father's silk hatinto shreds, and made off with his favorite spectacles. Whether he worethem or not I don't know; he chewed up the case; the glasses no manthereafter saw. I couldn't endure his piteous cries for reconciliationwhile he was in banishment, so I gave him away to a friend who wassuffering from an imaginary ailment, and needed rousing.

  "Talking of fathers, boys, reminds me that I feel responsible to FrancisFarrar, Esq., for the welfare of his lusty sons. Neal had a prettytiring time last night, and only about two hours' sleep since. I don'tsuppose any of us are outrageously hungry, seeing that we had some kindof breakfast at an unearthly hour. Here we are at camp! I propose thatwe turn in, and try to sleep until noon. What do you say?"

  Their leader having wound up his talk, thus, neither of his comradesventured to oppose his suggestion, though they felt little inclined forslumber.

  "Pleasant day-dreams to you, fellows!" said Cyrus three minutesafterwards, flinging off his coat, and throwing himself on his mattressof boughs, while he wiped the steady drip of perspiration from hisforehead and cheeks. "This day is going to be too warm for any morerushing. Our variable climate occasionally gives us these hot spells upto the middle of October; but they don't last. So much the better forus! We don't want sizzling days and oppressive nights, with mosquitoesand black flies to make us miserable. October in this country is thecamper's ideal--month"--

  The last sentence was broken by a great yawn, followed presently by asnort and an attempt at a shout, which quavered away into a queer littlewhine. Garst had passed into dreamland, where men revel in fragmentarymemories and pell-mell visions.