I don’t care if you have to cut down every tree in those bottoms. I want you to get that coon for those dogs.”
“I’m going to get him, Mama,” I said, “and I’m going to get him today if I possibly can.”
Papa laughed and said, “Looks like there wasn’t any use in building that scarecrow.
All you had to do was tell Old Dan to stay and watch the tree.”
I left the house in a run. Now and then I would stop and whoop.
Each time I was answered by the deep voice of Old Dan.
Little Ann ran ahead of me. By the time I reached the big tree, their voices were making the bottoms ring.
When I came tearing out of the underbrush, Old Dan threw a fit.
He tried to climb the sycamore. He would back way off, then, bawling and running as fast as he could, he would claw his way far up on its side.
Little Ann, not to be outdone, reared up and placed her small front paws on the smooth white bark.
She told the ringtail coon that she knew he was there.
After they had quieted down, I called Old Dan to me. “I’m proud of you, boy,” I said.
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