cks and chickens of the farm, the raccoons were
shrewd enough to know that any extensive depredations upon them would
call down the swift vengeance of the farmer-folk; but they could not
realize that they were in mischief when they helped themselves to
these juicy, growing things. The corn, though manifestly in some way
involved with the works of man, seemed nevertheless to them a portion
of nature's liberality. They ran riot, therefore, through the tall,
well-ordered ranks of green, without malice or misgiving; and in their
gaiety they were extravagant. They would snatch a mouthful out of one
sweet ear, then out of another, spoiling ten for one that they
consumed.

Night after night they came to the corn-field, and waxed fat on their
plunder, till at last, when they had done the damage of a herd of
oxen, one silvery night they were discovered. The young farmer, with
his hired boy and the harebrained, Irish setter, chanced to come by
through the woods, and to notice that the corn was moving although
there was no wind. The raccoons were promptly hunted out; and one of
the young ones, before they could gain the shadowy refuge of the
trees, was killed with sticks,--the setter contributing much noise,
but keeping at a very safe distance. When the affray was over, and the
young farmer, going through the field, found out what damage had been
done, he was eloquent with picturesque backwoods blasphemies, and
vowed the extermination of the whole 'coon clan. With the aid of the
setter, who now, for the first time, was able to prove the worth of
his breeding, he tracked the escaping marauders through the woods,
and at last, after a long hunt, located their lair in the old
sycamore-tree on the hill. At this his wrath gave way to the hunter's
elation. His eyes sparkled.

[Illustration: "THEY RAN RIOT ... THROUGH THE TALL, WELL-ORDERED RANKS
OF GREEN."]

"To-morrow night," said he, to the hired boy, "we'll have a reg'lar
old-fashioned 'coon hunt!"

Then, whistling off the setter, who was barking, jumping, and whining
ecstatically at the foot of the sycamore-tree, he turned and strode
away through the moon-shadows of the forest, with the dog and the
hired boy at his heels. The diminished raccoon family, with beating
hearts and trembling nerves, snuggled down together into the depths of
the sycamore, and dreamed not of the doom preparing for them.

III.

On the following night, soon after moonrise, they came. Stealthily,
tho