I caught lizards on the rail fences, rats in the corncrib, and frogs in the little creek that ran through the fields.
I was a young Daniel Boone. As the days passed, the dog-wanting disease grew worse.
I began to see dogs in my sleep. I went back to my father and mother. It was the same old story.
Good hounds cost money, and they just didn’t have it.
My dog-wanting became so bad I began to lose weight and my food didn’t taste good any more.
Mama noticed this and she had a talk with Papa. “You’re going to have to do something,” she said.
“I never saw a boy grieve like that. It’s not right, not right at all.”
“I know,” said Papa, “and I feel just as badly as you do, but what can I do? You know we don’t have that kind of money.”
“I don’t care,” said Mama. “You’ve got to do something.
I can’t stand to see him cry like that. Besides he’s getting to be a problem.
I can’t get my work done. He follows me around all day long begging for hounds.”
“I offered to get him a dog,” said Papa, “but he doesn’t want just any kind of dog.
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