They were well provided with fat pine torches and armed with axes. Bim
was full of eager excitement, and dashed away into the darkness the
moment they set foot on shore. His incessant barking showed him to be
first on this side and then on that, while once in a while they caught
a glimpse of his white form glancing across the outer rim of their
circle of torchlight.
"Isn't he hunting splendidly?" cried Billy Brackett, with enthusiasm.
"Yes, sah," replied Solon; "but him huntin' too loud. We ain't gettin'
to de place yet, an' ef he don' quit he barkin', him skeer off all de
'coon in de State."
So Bim was called in, and restrained with a bit of rope until a
corn-field was reached that Solon pronounced the right kind of a place
from which to make a start. Then the eager dog was again set free, and
in less than a minute was heard giving utterance to the peculiar
yelping note that announced his game as "treed."
"What did I tell you?" shouted Billy Brackett, triumphantly, as he
started on a run for the point from which the sounds proceeded. "How's
that for--" but at that instant the speaker tripped over a root, and
measured his length on the ground with a crash that knocked both breath
and powers of speech from his body. The others were so close behind
that they fell on top of him like a row of bricks, and in the resulting
confusion their torch was extinguished.
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