With that Harbert rolled up his sleeves, displaying the billowy muscles of his arms, wiped the blade of the axe, spat in his hands, swung the axe around his head, and buried it deep in the body of the water-oak. It was a sweeping, downward stroke, and it was followed quickly by others until in a very short time the tree began to sway a little. The dogs, which had ceased their baying, now became restless and ran wildly about, but always keeping a safe distance from the tree. Mr. Snelson took his stand on one side and Joe Maxwell on the other, while Jim-Polk went out where the tree was to fall, after cautioning Harbert to keep a lookout for the coon. The advice to Harbert was given with good reason, for it is a favorite trick of the raccoon to start down the body of the tree as it falls and leap off while the dogs and hunters are looking for him in the bushy top. This coon made the same experiment. As the tree swayed forward and fell, he ran down the trunk. Mr. Snelson saw him, gave a squall, and rushed forward to grab him. At the same moment Harbert gave a yell that was a signal to the dogs, and the excited creatures plunged toward him. Whether it was Jolly or whether it was Loud, no one ever knew, but one of the dogs, in his excitement, ran between Mr. Snel-son's legs. That gentleman's heels flew in the air, and he fell on his back with a resounding thump. Stunned and frightened, he hardly knew what had happened. The last thing he saw was the coon, and he concluded that he had captured the animal. “Murder!” he screamed. “Run here an' take 'em off! Run here! I've got 'em!” Then began a terrific struggle between Mr. Snelson and a limb of the tree that just touched his face, and this he kept up until he was lifted to his feet. He made a ridiculous spectacle as he stood there glaring angrily around as if trying to find the man or the animal that had knocked him down and pummeled him. His coat was ripped and torn, and his pantaloons were split at both knees. He seemed to realize the figure he cut in the eyes of his companions. “Oh, laugh away!” he cried. “'Tis yure opportunity. The next time it will be at some one else ye're laughing. Upon me soul!” he went on, examining himself, “I'd ha' fared better in the battle of Manassus. So this is your coon-hunting, is it? If the Lord and the coon'll forgive me for me share in this night's worruk, the devil a coon will I hunt any more whatever.” Meanwhile the coon had jumped from the tree, with the hounds close behind him. They had overrun him on the hill, and this gave him an opportunity to get back to the swamp, where the dogs could not follow so rapidly. Yet the coon had very little the advantage. As Jim-Polk expressed it, “the dogs had their teeth on edge,” and they were rushing after him without any regard for brake or brier, lagoon or quagmire. The only trouble was with Mr. Snelson, who declared that he was fagged out.