I also knew he was a silent witness to the horrible scene.
Behind me lay the still body of a young boy. On my left a blue tick hound lay torn and bleeding.
Even after all that had happened, I could feel no hatred for the ghost coon and was not sorry I had let him live.
Arriving home, I awakened my mother and father. Starting at my grandfather’s mill, I told everything that had happened.
I left nothing out. My mother had started crying long before I had completed my story.
Papa said nothing, just sat and listened. When I had finished, he kept staring down at the floor in deep thought.
I could hear the sobbing of my mother in the silence. I walked over to her.
She put her arms around me and said, “My poor little boy.” Getting to his feet, Papa reached for his coat and hat.
Mama asked him where he was going. “Well, I’ll have to go up there,” he said.
“I’m going to get Grandpa, for he is the only man in the country that has authority to move the body.”
Looking at me, he said, “You go across the river and get Old Man Lowery, and you may as well go on up and tell the Bufords, too.
Tell them to meet us at your grandfather’s place.”
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