As the animal came closer, Rainie said, “Why, it’s Old Blue. How did he get loose?”
It was a big blue tick hound. Around his neck was a piece of rope about three feet long.
One could see that the rope had been gnawed in two. The frayed end had become entangled in a fair-sized dead limb.
Dragging the limb was what made the dog look so odd. I felt much better when I found out what it was.
The blue tick hound was like the Pritchards, mean and ugly.
He was a big dog, tall and heavy. His chest was thick and solid. He came up growling.
The hair on his back was standing straight up. He walked stiff-legged around Old Dan, showing his teeth.
I told Rainie he had better get hold of his dog, or there was sure to be a fight.
“You better get hold of your dog,” he said. “I’m not worried about Old Blue. He can take care of himself.”
I said no more. “Don’t make no difference now whether you kill the ghost coon or not,” Rubin said.
“Old Blue will take care of him.” I knew the killing of the coon was out of my control, but I didn’t want to see him die.
I said to Rubin, “Just give back my two dollars and I’ll go home. I can’t keep you from killing him, but I don’t have to stay and see it.”
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