one in the morning
`` Now , uncle , '' said Miss Laura , `` you 're laughing at me . That could n't be true . '' `` No , no , '' said Mr. Wood , chuckling ; `` but they 're mighty cute at pretending they 're dead . I once shot one in the morning , carried him a long way on my shoulders , and started to skin him in the afternoon , when he turned around and bit me enough to draw blood . At another time I dug one out of a hole in the ground . He feigned death . I took him up and threw him down at some distance , and he jumped up and ran into the woods . ''