In this box, I have twenty-five cards. Everyone in the contest will now line up for the drawing.
The card you draw will tell you what night your hounds are to hunt.”
Walking along in the line, I noticed the beautiful red coats, the caps, and the soft leather boots worn by the other hunters.
I felt out of place in my faded blue overalls, old sheepskin coat, and scuffed and worn shoes, but to the wonderful men it made no difference.
They treated me like a man, and even talked to me like a man.
When it came my time to draw, my hand was shaking so hard I could hardly get it in the box.
Pulling the card out, I saw I had drawn the fourth night.
After the hunters had left, we stood around our campfires sipping strong black coffee and listening to the baying of the hounds.
Time after time, we heard the tree bark. Once two hounds came close to the camp, hot on a trail.
We listened to their steady bawling. All at once they stopped.
After several minutes of waiting, a hunter said, “You know what? That old coon took to the river and in some way has fooled those dogs.”
Another one said, “Yes, sir, he sure has.” A friendly hunter looked at me and asked, “Do you think he could have fooled your dogs?”
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