"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. "`He hab reach him own tree, massa; an' that am sartin to be a big un wi' a hole near um top. Wagh! 'twar dat ar fence. But for de dratted fence ole Pomp nebber let um reach um own tree. Wagh!' "From this I learned that one point in the character of a good 'coon-dog was speed. The 'coon runs well for a few hundred yards. He rarely strays farther from his lair. If he can beat his pursuer for this distance he is safe, as his retreat is always in a hollow tree of great size. There is no way of getting at him there, except by felling the tree, and this the most zealous 'coon-hunter would not think of attempting. The labour of cutting down such a tree would be worth a dozen 'coons. A swift dog, therefore, will overtake the raccoon, and force him to the nearest tree--often a small one, where he is either shaken off or the tree cut down. Sometimes the hunter climbs after and forces him to leap out, so as to fall into the very jaws of the watchful dog below. "In Abe's opinion Pompo would have `treed' his 'coon before reaching, the bottom, had not the fence interfered, but now-- "`Told ye so, massa!' muttered he, interrupting my thoughts. `Look dar! dar's de tree--trunk thick as a haystack. Wagh!' "I looked in the direction indicated by my companion. I saw Pompo standing by the root of a very large tree, looking upward, shaking his tail, and barking at intervals. Before I had time to make any farther observations Abe's voice again sounded in my ears. "`Gollies! it am a buttonwood! Why, Pomp, ole fellur, you hab made a mistake--de varmint ain't dar, 'Cooney nebber trees upon buttonwood-- nebber--you oughter know better'n dat, ole fool!' "Abe's speech drew my attention to the tree. I saw that it was the American sycamore (_Platanus Occidentalis_), familiarly known by the trivial name, `buttonwood,' from the use to which its wood is sometimes put. But why should the 'coon not `tree' upon it, as well as any other? I put the question to my companion. "`'Cause, massa, its bark am slickery. De varmint nebber takes to 'im. He likes de oak, an' de poplum, an' de scaly-bark. Gosh! but he am dar!' continued Abe, raising his voice, and looking outward--`Look yonder, massa! He had climb by de great vine. Dat's right, Pomp! you am right after all, and dis nigga's a fool. Hee--up, ole dog! hee--up!'