“Here he is, Joe! Come, take a look at him.”
Joe tried his best to see the coon. He looked where Jim-Polk pointed, taking sight along his finger, but he was obliged to confess that he could see nothing.
“Gracious alive!” cried Jim-Polk, “can’t you see his eyes a-shinin’ in the leaves there?”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Joe; “I was looking for the whole coon, and I thought the shiny things were stars showing between the leaves.” But no stars ever burned as steadily as the pale-green little orbs that shone in the tree.
“Maybe,” said Mr. Snelson, after trying in vain to “shine” the coon’s eyes—“maybe the creature has left his eyes there and escaped.” But the others paid no attention to his jocularity.
“The thing to do now, Harbert,” said Jim-Polk, “is to lay that tree where it won’t hit up agin no other tree, because if we don’t we’ll have to be a-cuttin’ an’ a-slashin’ in here all night.”
“So!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, in a tragic tone. “Well, then, I’ll der-raw the der-rapery of me couch about me and lie down to pleasant der-reams!”
“You see,” said Jim-Polk, “if that tree hits agin another tree, off goes Mr. Zip Coon into t’other one. Coon is quicker’n lightnin’ on the jump.”
“I’ll make’er fall out dat way.” Harbert indicated an open place by a wave of his hand.
“Upon me soul!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, “I didn’t know you could make a tree fall up hill.”