"He has his ax with him, fer every real coon hunter always carries an ax ter chop down ther tree when he finds a coon in it. But he wa'n't goin' ter chop down this tree none."
"What did he want with the ax, then?"
"I'll soon tell yer. First he chops down a small tree, an' he makes a wedge with an edge erbout ther size o' yer little finger, an' he waits until ther tree breathes ergin. Then he slips ther wedge in, an' hammers it home.
"'Ha, ha!' says he ter ther tree, 'ye'll make monkey-shines with me, holdin' me by ther coat tails, will yer?' An' all ther time he is choppin' out another wedge, bigger than ther first.
"As he keeps choppin' out, an' shovin' bigger an' bigger wedges inter ther crack, he hears noises comin' from ther tree like what he ain't never heard before. But ther tree is beginnin' ter give out crackin' noises, too, like as if it was splittin'.
"While this is goin' on Ballyhoo is makin' a terrible fuss, an' jest tryin' ter tear ther tree down with his claws. At last ther tree busts plumb open, an' what d'yer think Unc' Fletch sees?"
Neither Ted nor Carl replied. What the tree contained was a thing unguessable, but Carl's eyes were as big as saucers as he stared at Bud, awaiting the solution of the mystery.
"What did it contain?" asked Ted at last.
"It was plumb full o' coons," said Bud solemnly. "Thar must 'a' been two hundred coons in that tree. It was a regular coon hotel. They made it a sort o' winter colony. Every coon fer miles eround made it home."
"But that doesn't explain the crack in the tree and the strange way in which it opened and closed."