There, a good fifteen feet from the ground, with his hind legs planted firmly in the center of a big limb,
and his front feet against the trunk of the tree, stood Old Dan, bawling for all he was worth.
Above him some eight or nine feet was a baby coon.
I was glad it was a young one, for if it had been an old one, he would have jumped out.
Old Dan would have followed, and he surely would have broken all of his legs.
From where I was standing, I could see it was impossible for Old Dan to have climbed the tree.
It was dead and more of an old snag than a tree, with limbs that were crooked and twisted.
The bark had rotted away and fallen off, leaving the trunk bare and slick as glass.
It was a good ten feet up to the first limb. I couldn’t figure out how Old Dan had climbed that tree.
There had to be a solution somewhere. Walking around to the other side, I saw how he had accomplished his feat.
There in the bottom was a large hole. The old tree was hollow.
Stepping back, I looked up and could see another hole, which had been hidden from me because of Old Dan’s body.
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