“Pompo was now let loose in the corn; while Abe and I walked quietly along the fence, keeping on different sides. Abe remained in the field for the purpose of handing over the dog, as the fence was high—a regular ‘ten rail, with stalks and riders.’ A ’coon could easily cross it, but not a dog, without help.
“We had not gone more than a hundred yards, when a quick sharp yelp from Pompo announced that he had come suddenly upon something in the corn-field.
“‘A varmint!’ cried Abe; and the next moment appeared the dog, running up full tilt among the maize plants and up to the fence. I could see some dark object before him, that passed over the rails with a sudden spring, and bounded into the timbers.
“‘A varmint, massa!’ repeated Abe, as he lifted the dog over, and followed himself.
“I knew that in Abe’s vocabulary—for that night at least—a ‘varmint’ meant a ’coon; and as we dashed through the brushwood, following the dog, I felt all the excitement of a ’coon-chase.
“It was not a long one—I should think of about five minutes’ duration; at the end of which time the yelp of the dog which had hitherto guided us, changed into a regular and continuous harking. On hearing this, Abe quietly announced—
“‘The varmint am treed.’
“Our only thought now was to get to the tree as speedily as possible, but another thought entered our minds as we advanced; that was, what sort of a tree had the ’coon taken shelter in?
“This was an important question, and its answer involved the success or failure of our hunt. If a very large tree, we might whistle for the ’coon. Abe knew this well, and as we passed on, expressed his doubts about the result.
“The bark of Pompo sounded some hundred yards off, in the very heaviest of the bottom timber. It was not likely, therefore, that the ’coon had taken to a small tree, while there were large ones near at hand. Our only hope was that he had climbed one that was not ‘hollow.’ In that case we might still have a chance with the double-barrel and buck-shot. Abe had but little hope.