eir possessions. Sometimes they stopped to admire
the size of an old hemlock, or to talk about thinning out the young
pines. At last they were not very far from the entrance to the great
tract of woodland. The yellow sunshine came slanting in much brighter
against the tall trunks, spotting them with golden light high among the
still branches.

Presently they came to a great ledge, frost-split and cracked into
mysterious crevices.

"Here's where we used to get all the coons," said John York. "I have
n't seen a coon this great while, spite o' your courage knocking on the
trees up back here. You know that night we got the four fat ones? We
started 'em somewheres near here, so the dog could get after 'em when
they come out at night to go foragin'."

"Hold on, John;" and Mr. Isaac Brown got up from the log where he had
just sat down to rest, and went to the ledge, and looked carefully all
about. When he came back he was much excited, and beckoned his friend
away, speaking in a stage whisper.

"I guess you 'll see a coon before you 're much older," he proclaimed.
"I 've thought it looked lately as if there 'd been one about my place,
and there's plenty o' signs here, right in their old haunts. Couple o'
hens' heads an' a lot o' feathers"--

"Might be a fox," interrupted John York.

"Might be a coon," answered Mr. Isaac Brown. "I 'm goin' to have him,
too. I 've been lookin' at every old hollow tree I passed, but I never
thought o' this place. We 'll come right off to-morrow night, I guess,
John, an' see if we can't get him. 'T is an extra handy place for 'em
to den; in old times the folks always called it a good place; they 've
been so sca'ce o' these late years that I 've thought little about 'em.
Nothin' I ever liked so well as a coon-hunt. Gorry! he must be a big
old fellow, by his tracks! See here, in this smooth dirt; just like a
baby's footmark."

"Trouble is, we lack a good dog," said John York anxiously, after he
had made an eager inspection. "I don't know where in the world to get
one, either. There ain't no such a dog about as your Rover, but you
've let him get spoilt; these days I don't see him leave the yard. You
ought to keep the women folks from overfeedin' of him so. He ought to
've lasted a good spell longer. He's no use for huntin' now, that's
certain."

Isaac accepted the rebuke meekly. John York was a calm man, but he now
grew very fierce under such a provocation. Nobody like