Yelping with pain, she shook him off and he streaked for the river.
I thought surely he was going to get away. At the very edge of the river’s bank, she caught him again.
I was trying hard to get in a lick with my club but couldn’t for fear of hitting Little Ann.
Through the tears in my eyes I saw the red blurry form of Old Dan sail into the fight.
He was a mad hound. His anger at the bur oak tree was taken out on the coon.
They stretched Old Ringy out between them and pinned him to the ground.
It was savage and brutal. I could hear the dying squalls of the coon and the deep growls of Old Dan.
In a short time it was all over. With sorrow in my heart, I stood and watched while my dogs worried the lifeless body.
Little Ann was satisfied first. I had to scold Old Dan to make him stop.
Carrying the coon by a hind leg, I walked back to the big tree for my ax.
Before leaving for home, I stood and looked at the fallen sycamore.
I should have felt proud over the job I had done, but for some reason I couldn’t.
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