I knew if it had not been for the miracle of the lantern, my little dog would have met her death on that night.
Her grave would have been the cold icy waters of the Illinois River.
Out in the river I could hear the cold water gurgling in the icy trough. It seemed to be angry.
It hissed and growled as it tore its way through the channel. I shuddered to think of what could have happened.
Before I left for home, I walked back to the sycamore tree.
Once again I said a prayer, but this time the words were different. I didn’t ask for a miracle.
In every way a young boy could, I said “thanks.” My second prayer wasn’t said with just words.
All of my heart and soul was in it. On my way home I decided not to say anything to my mother and father about Little Ann’s accident.
I knew it would scare Mama and she might stop my hunting.
Reaching our house, I didn’t hang the lantern in its usual place.
I took it to my room and set it in a corner with the handle standing up.
The next morning I started sneezing and came down with a terrible cold.
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