unmercifully.
At length the woodpecker took refuge in a tree that stood on the bank
of the creek, and then seemed perfectly at his ease. He always kept on
the opposite side of the tree, and the kingbird, active as he was,
could not reach him. His loud, angry twittering soon brought his mate
to his assistance, and then the woodpecker found himself between two
fires. After trying in vain to elude them, he suddenly popped into a
hole in the tree, and stuck out his long bill, as if defying them to
enter. The kingbirds were completely outwitted; and, after making two
or three angry darts at the hole in which their cunning enemy had
taken refuge, they settled down on the branches close by to wait until
he should show himself. They had no intention of giving up the
contest. The woodpecker seemed to take matters very coolly, and
improved his time by pounding away industriously on the inside of the
tree. Occasionally he would thrust his head out of the hole, but,
seeing his enemies still on the watch, he would dodge back, and go to
work again.

After waiting fully a quarter of an hour for him to come out, and
seeing that the kingbirds had no idea of "raising the siege," Archie
concluded (to age his own expression) that he "might as well lend a
little assistance." So he ran round to the shop, and, having procured
an ax, he went up to the tree, and dealt it a heavy blow. The next
moment the woodpecker flew out, and the kingbirds were after him in an
instant They followed him until he reached the woods, and then
returned to the cottage.

CHAPTER XIII.

A 'Coon-Hunt.

We might relate many more interesting events that transpired before
the hunting season set in; we might tell of the "tall times" the boys
had whipping the trout-streams, of the trials of speed that came off
on the river, when it turned out, as Archie had predicted, that
Charles Morgan's sloop "couldn't sail worth a row of pins;" and we
might tell of many more desperate "scrapes" that came off between the
bully and his sworn enemies the Hillers; but we fear, reader, you are
already weary of the Young Naturalist's home-life, and long to see him
engaging in his favorite recreations--roaming through the woods, with
his gun on his shoulder, or dealing death among the ducks on the
river.

Well, autumn came at length; and, early one chilly, moonlight evening,
Frank and his cousin, accompanied by George and Harry, might have
been seen picking their way across t