Much to Harbert's delight, the tree was not a large one, and he made immediate preparations to cut it down. “Wait a minit,” said Jim-Polk. “This coon ain't at home, and we'd better be certain of the tree he is in.” “You must have been visitin' him,” said the genial printer, “for how de ye know about his home, else?” “Some of these days,” said Jim-Polk, laughing, “I'll come to your house an' stay to dinner, an' tell you about how coons live in holler trees.” “Fetch your dinner wit' ye,” responded Snelson, “and ye're more than welcome.” Jim-Polk was too busy to make a reply. Holding the torch behind him, and waving it slowly, he walked around the tree. He appeared to be investigating his own shadow, which flickered and danced in the leaves and branches. Now stooping and peering, now tiptoeing and craning his neck, now leaning to the right and now to the left, he looked into the top of the tree. Finally, he exclaimed: “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.” “Yes, suh!” said Harbert, with pardonable pride. “I done cleaned out too many new groun's. I lay I kin drive a stob out dar an' put de body er dish yer tree right 'pon top un it. I kin dat!”