Thinking I had had my labor for my pains, I was about crawling out of my hiding-place, when a twig snapped in the direction of the traps, and turning quickly I saw the 'coon coming up the bank of the brook, the same one, I was sure, that I had seen before, because of its unusual size.
With a glance around, to see that there was no danger near, he ambled along to the spot where the sable's head had been, and began sniffing at the shreds and bits of fur which lay about. Wishing to see if he would touch the trap, I did not stir, but watched his movements.
After picking up the bits of skin, he walked round the trap several times, with his queer, quizzical face askew, examining it. Then happening to scent one of the sable's legs which lay at a little distance, he ran to it and began to eat it. I could hear his sharp teeth upon the bones. Suddenly he stopped, listened, then growled. Very much to my surprise, there was an answering growl. Then another and another response. In a moment more, from behind a great rock in the bank, there stole out a large, black animal, an object of the 'coon's utter abhorrence, evidently.
Fresh growls greeted the appearance of the intruder, who came stealthily forward. He was a wicked looking fellow, and had evidently hostile intentions.
The 'coon rose to his feet, lifting his back like a bear or a cat, and growling all the while. The newcomer crouched almost to the earth, but continued to steal up to the 'coon until within a yard or two.
There they stood facing each other, getting more angry every moment; and evidently intended to have a big "set to." I had no wish to interfere, and was contented to remain a spectator. The two thieves might settle their quarrels between themselves. I wasn't at all certain to which of them I stood indebted for my extra labor, and concluded to keep my charge of shot for whichever of them survived the fray.
The growls rose to shrieks; the fisher, for such I judged it to be, wriggling his black tail, and the 'coon getting his back still higher. Then came a sudden grab, quick as a flash, and a prodigious scuffle. Over and over they rolled, grappling and tearing; now the gray tail would whisk up in sight, then the black one. The fur flew, and that strong, disagreeable odor, sometimes noticed when a cat spits, was wafted out to my hiding-place.
It was hard to tell which was the best fighter. Gray fur and black fur seemed to be getting torn out in about equal snatches. Suddenly the 'coon got away from his antagonist, and running to the foot of a great spruce tree standing near, went like a dart up the trunk to the lower limbs. There he faced about.
The fisher followed to the tree and looked up. He saw his late foe, growled, and then began to climb after him. He was not so good a climber as the 'coon, but scratched his way up with true weasel determination. The moment he came within reach the raccoon jumped at him, regardless of the height from the ground, and fastened upon his back. The shock caused the fisher to lose his hold, and down both animals dropped with tremendous force, sufficient to knock the breath out of them, I thought. But they clung to each other, and dug and bit with the fury of maniacs. 'Coons are noted fighters; and as for the fishers, they never give up while the breath of life is in them.
Presently the 'coon broke away again, and once more ran to the tree, this time going up its trunk, out of sight, among the branches at the very top. It looked as if he was getting about all the fight he cared to have.