“Why, Mama,” I said, “I go to bed, don’t I? What does a boy go to bed for if it isn’t to sleep?”
By the little wrinkles that bunched up on her forehead, I could tell that Mama wasn’t satisfied.
Papa came in during one of these inspections. Mama told him she was worried about my health.
“Aw,” he said, “there’s nothing wrong with him. It’s just because he’s been cooped up all winter. A boy needs sunshine, and exercise.
He’s almost eleven now, and I’m going to let him help me in the fields this summer. That will put the muscles back on him.”
I thought this was wonderful. I’d finally grown up to be a man. I was going to help Papa with the farm.
Chapter - III
THE DOG-WANTING DISEASE NEVER DID LEAVE ME ALTOGETHER.
With the new work I was doing, helping Papa, it just kind of burned itself down and left a big sore on my heart.
Every time I’d see a coon track down in our fields, or along the riverbanks, the old sore would get all festered up and start hurting again.
Just when I had given up all hope of ever owning a good hound, something wonderful happened.
The good Lord figured I had hurt enough, and it was time to lend a helping hand.
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