which was a
large, powerful animal, with great fury, returning bite for bite for
some moments; and after a quarter of an hour had elapsed and his
unequal antagonist had shaken him as a terrier does a rat, making
his teeth meet through the small of his back, the coon still showed
fight.

They are very tenacious of life, and like the badger will always
whip a dog of their own size and weight. A woodchuck can bite
severely, having teeth that cut like chisels, but a coon has agility
and power of limb as well.

They are considered game only in the fall, or towards the close of
summer, when they become fat and their flesh sweet. At this time,
cooning in the remote interior is a famous pastime. As this animal
is entirely nocturnal in its habits, it is hunted only at night. A
piece of corn on some remote side-hill near the mountain, or between
two pieces of woods, is most apt to be frequented by them. While the
corn is yet green they pull the ears down like hogs, and, tearing
open the sheathing of husks, eat the tender, succulent kernels,
bruising and destroying much more than they devour. Sometimes their
ravages are a matter of serious concern to the farmer. But every
such neighborhood has its coon-dog, and the boys and young men
dearly love the sport. The party sets out about eight or nine
o'clock of a dark, moonless night, and stealthily approaches the
cornfield. The dog knows his business, and when he is put into a
patch of corn and told to "hunt them up" he makes a thorough search,
and will not be misled by any other scent. You hear him rattling
through the corn, hither and yon, with great speed. The coons prick
up their ears, and leave on the opposite side of the field. In the
stillness you may sometimes hear a single stone rattle on the wall
as they hurry toward the woods. If the dog finds nothing, he comes
back to his master in a short time, and says in his dumb way, "No
coon there." But if he strikes a trail, you presently hear a louder
rattling on the stone wall, and then a hurried bark as he enters the
woods, followed in a few minutes by loud and repeated barking as he
reaches the foot of the tree in which the coon has taken refuge.
Then follows a pellmell rush of the cooning party up the hill, into
the woods, through the brush and the darkness, falling over
prostrate trees, pitching into gullies and hollows, losing hats and
tearing clothes, till finally, guided by the baying of the faithful
dog, the tree is rea