On reaching midstream, the ghost coon headed downriver with Little Ann still on his tail.
We ran down the riverbank. I could see my dogs clearly in the moonlight.
The ghost coon was about fifteen feet ahead of Little Ann.
About twenty-five yards behind them came Old Dan, trying so hard to catch up.
I whooped to them. Rubin grabbed a pole, saying, “He may come out on this side.”
Knowing the ghost coon was desperate, I wondered what he would do.
Reaching a gravel bar below the high bank, we ran out on it to the water’s edge.
Then the ghost coon did something that I never expected.
Coming even with us, he turned from midstream and came straight for us.
I heard Rubin yell, “Here he comes!” He churned his way through the shallows and ran right between us.
Rubin swung his pole, missed the coon, and almost hit Little Ann.
The coon headed for the river bottoms with her right on his heels.
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