We want a dandy big pelt out of this!" There was a crack, and the tree fell with a crash.

All the Boston man could see was that from a tumbled pile of branches, dogs, and men, some one at last stepped back, gripping a sack, and cried: "Got it all right, and it's a buster." "Now for the other forty-nine!" shouted Jimmy, straining into his coat.
"Come on, boys, we must secure a coon for every one," cried the Thread Man, heartily as any member of the party might have said it.

But the rest of the boys suddenly grew tired.

They did not want any coons, and after some persuasion the party agreed to go back to Casey's to warm up.

The Thread Man got into his scorched, besooted, oil-smeared coat, and the overcoat which had been loaned him, and shouldered the gun.
Jimmy hesitated.