The Fire-Hunt was Sam’s hobby, and though the legislature had recently passed an act prohibiting that mode of hunting, he continued to indulge, as freely as ever, in his favourite sport, resolutely maintaining that the law was “unconstitootional and agin reason.” He had often urged me to accompany him, just to see how “slick” he could shine a buck’s eyes; and such were the glowing accounts he had from time to time given me of his achievements in that way, that he had drawn from me a promise to go with him “some of these times.” I was sitting one evening, after tea, upon the steps of the porch, enjoying the cool autumnal breeze, when my friend Sam Sikes suddenly made his appearance. He had come for me to go with him on a fire-hunt, and was mounted on his mule Blaze, with his pan upon one shoulder, and his musket on the other. Determined to have everything in readiness before calling on me, he had gone to the kitchen and lit a few light-wood splinters, which were now blazing in his pan, and which served the double purpose of lighting him through the enclosure, and of demonstrating to me the manner of hunting by night. As he approached the house, his light discovered me where I was sitting. “Good evenin’, Major,” said he, “I’ve come out to see if you’ve a mind to take a little hunt to-night.” “I believe not, Mr. Sikes,” I replied, feeling entirely too well satisfied with my pleasant seat in the cool breeze, to desire to change it for a night-ramble through the woods. “Not to-night, I thank you—it looks like rain.” “Oh, ’shaw, ’taint gwine to rain, nohow—and I’m all fixed—come, come along, Major.” As he spoke, he rode close to the porch, and his mule made several efforts to crop the shrubbery that grew by the door, which Sam very promptly opposed. “How far are you going, Mr. Sikes?” I inquired, endeavouring to shake off the lazy fit which inclined me to keep my seat. “Only jest up the branch a little bit—not beyant a mile from your fence, at the outside. Look at him!” he exclaimed in a louder tone, as he gave the reins a jerk. “Thar’s deer a plenty up at the forks, and we’ll have r’al sport. Come, you better go, and—Why, look at him!” giving the reins another jerk, at the same time that he sent a kick to his mule’s ribs that might have been heard an hundred yards, “and I’ll show you how to shine the eyes of a buck.” As he sat in his saddle persuading me to go, his mule kept frisking and turning in such a manner as to annoy him exceedingly. Upon his left shoulder he bore his blazing-pan, and upon his right he held his musket, holding the reins also in his right hand; so that any efforts on his part to restrain the refractory movements of his animal was attended with much difficulty. I had about made up my mind to go, when the mule evinced a more resolute determination to get at the shrubbery.