robably when the 'coons came he made a charge upon them, and
they turned upon him and drove him away, for he was only a little young
one. He took refuge in the wood-house, where he barked furiously for an
hour or more, and then in occasional brief spells all the
night--whenever he woke enough to remember the 'coons. After this Frank
gave up the defense of the corn, but began to gather it nightly as fast
as the ears were sufficiently full. At length he cut the corn and took
it into the barn, excepting a single bunch. About this bunch he sunk
traps in the ground, and threw hay-seed over them, and placed nice ears
of sweet-corn beside them. The next morning he had another 'coon. The
other trap was sprung also, but it held nothing but a little tuft of
long gray fur. That sly fellow had again sat down on the trencher. From
this time the 'coons troubled Frank's corn no more, having found other
fields where there was more corn and fewer traps. Frank's final conflict
with the 'coons was late in the autumn, when the leaves were nearly gone
from the trees, and the ripe beech-nuts were beginning to drop. He had
fired all his ammunition away at gray squirrels the day before, except a
little powder; but a meeting of crows in the adjoining woods incited his
sporting proclivities, and he loaded his gun, putting in peas for shot,
and started for the locality of the noisy birds. They cawed a little
louder when they discovered the intruder, then began in a straggling
manner to fly away. So when Frank arrived at the scene of the meeting it
had adjourned. Looking about in the trees to see if by chance a single
crow might still be lingering, a slight movement in a tall maple met his
eye.

"Biggest gray squirrel ever I saw," muttered the boy, raising his gun.
The position was not a good one for a shot, as the head, which had been
thrust out over a large branch close to the trunk was now withdrawn, so
that only the end of the nose was visible. Close beside this branch was
another, and between the two a large surface of gray fur was exposed.

"I'll send him some peas for dinner," thought Frank, and fired. He heard
the peas rattle against the hard bark of the tree, but no gray squirrel
came down or went up that he could see. When the smoke cleared away, a
black nose was thrust out over the branch, and two keen eyes were
visible, peering down at the sportsman, as much as to say, "I like peas
for dinner, little boy, but don't take 'em that way."