I’ve been working on this for months. I’ve written letters on top of letters. I’ve even had several good friends in town helping me.
You see, I’ve kept a record of all the coons your dogs have caught, and believe me, their catch is up there with the best of them.
Now, I have already paid the entry fee and everything is fixed.
All we have to do is go.” “Entry fee? How much did it cost?”
I asked. “You let me worry about that,” he said. “Now what do you say? Want to give it a whirl?
I understand the winner receives a gold cup, and you never can tell, we might come home with it. We have as good a chance as anyone else.”
Grandpa had me so worked up by this time, I didn’t think anyone else had any good hounds but me.
I reared back and blurted, “It’s all right with me, Grandpa. Just tell me what to do.”
Grandpa flew out of gear like a Model-T Ford. He slapped the counter with his hand.
In a pent-up voice, he said, “That’s the boy! That’s the way I like to hear a coon hunter talk.”
With a questioning look on his face, he asked, “Didn’t I see your dogs with you when you came up?”
“Yes, they followed me,” I said. “They’re outside.” “Well, call them in,” he said. “I’ve got something for them.”
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