They came back. Old Dan went up the river and Little Ann worked downstream.
An hour and a half later they gave up and came to me begging for help.
I knelt down between their wet bodies. While I scratched and petted them, I let them know that I still loved them.
“I’m not mad,” I said. “I know you did your best. If that coon can fool both of us, then we’re just beat.”
“We’ll go someplace else to hunt. He’s not the only coon in these bottoms.”
Just as I picked up my ax and lantern, Little Ann let out a bawl and tore out down the riverbank.
Old Dan, with a bewildered look on his face, stood for a moment looking after her.
Then, raising his head high in the air, he made my eardrums ring with his deep voice.
I could hear the underbrush popping as he ran to join her.
I couldn’t figure out what had taken place. Surely Little Ann had heard or seen something.
I could tell by their voices that whatever it was they were after, they were close enough to see it and were probably running by sight.
The animal left the bottoms and headed for the mountains.
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