I knew I would miss the giant of the bottoms, for it had played a wonderful part in my life.
I thought of the hours I had whiled away staring at its beauty and how hard it had been finding the right name for it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to cut you down, but I had to. I hope you can understand.”
I was a proud boy as I walked along in the twilight of the evening.
I felt so good even my sore hands had stopped hurting.
What boy wouldn’t have been proud? Hadn’t my little hounds treed and killed their first coon?
Along about then I decided I was a full-fledged coon hunter.
Nearing our house, I saw the whole family had come out on the porch.
My sisters came running, staring wide-eyed at the dead coon.
Laughing, Papa said, “Well, I see you got him.” “I sure did, Papa,” I said.
I held the coon up for all to see. Mama took one look at the lifeless body and winced.
“Billy,” she said, “when I heard that big tree fall, it scared me half to death. I didn’t know but what it had fallen on you.”
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