Old Dan was furious. Never before had I seen a coon get away from him. I told Rubin I would climb up and run him out.
As I started climbing, I saw Little Ann go to one side and Old Dan to the other.
My dogs would never stay together when they had treed a coon, so that any way he left a tree, he was met by one of them.
About halfway up, far out on a limb, I found the ghost coon.
As I started toward him, my dogs stopped bawling. I heard something I had heard many times.
The sound was like the cry of a small baby. It was the cry of a ringtail coon when he knows it is the end of the trail.
I never liked to hear this cry, but it was all in the game, the hunter and the hunted.
As I sat there on the limb, looking at the old fellow, he cried again.
Something came over me. I didn’t want to kill him. I hollered down and told Rubin I didn’t want to kill the ghost coon.
He hollered back, “Are you crazy?” I told him I wasn’t crazy. I just didn’t want to kill him.
I climbed down. Rubin was mad. He said, “What’s the matter with you?” “Nothing,” I told him.
“I just don’t have the heart to kill the coon.” I told him there were plenty more; why kill him?
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