“Somehow or other I’m tetotiatiously deluded, to-night,” remarked Sam, as he came tearing through the briers with his stirrup-irons dangling about him, his gun in one hand and frying-pan in the other. “If I hadn’t a been completely dumfoozled, I’d never a killed Blaze like I did.” I volunteered to carry his gun, but he was in no humour for the interchange of civilities—“still harping” on his mule, he trudged on, grumbling to himself— “What,” he muttered, “will Polly say now—I’ll never hear the last of that critter the longest day I live. That’s worse than choppin’ the coon-tree across the sittin’ hen’s nest, and I liked never to hearn the eend o’ that.” After groping through the brush and briers, which seemed to grow thicker the farther we proceeded, for some time, Sam stopped. “I swar, Major, this ain’t the way.” “Well, then, lead the way, and I’ll follow you,” I replied, beginning, myself, to think I was wrong. Changing our direction, we plodded on, occasionally tumbling over logs and brush, until Sam concluded that all our efforts to find the way were useless. “Oh, thunderation!” said he, as he tore away from a thick jungle of briers in which he had been rearing and pitching for more than a minute, “it ain’t no manner of use for us to try to find the way, Major—so let’s look out a big tree, and stop under it till morning.” Seeing no alternative, I reluctantly acceded to his proposal. Accordingly, we nestled down under the shelter of a large oak. For a time neither spoke, and all was still, save the incessant buzz of the countless hosts of mosquitoes that now seemed intent upon devouring us. At length I broke silence, by remarking—at the same time that I gave myself a box upon the ear, intended for the mosquitoe that was biting me: “I think this will be my last fire-hunt, Mr. Sikes.” “The fact is,” replied Sam, “this ’ere ain’t very incouragin’ to new beginners, Major, that’s a fact—but you musn’t give it up so. I hope we’ll have a better showin’ next time.” “My curiosity is satisfied,” I remarked. “I wouldn’t pass such another night in the woods for all the deer in Georgia.” “’Shaw, I wouldn’t care a tinker’s cus,” said Sam, “if I only jest hadn’t a killed Blaze. That’s what sets me back, monstrous.” “That was indeed an unlucky mistake. I should think a few such exploits as that would cure you of your fire-hunting propensity. But I expect you never had such luck, before to-night.” “No, not ’zactly—tho’ I’ve had some monstrous bad luck in my time, too. I reckon you never hearn about the time I got among the panters.” “No—how was that?”