Men were looking at me, and talking in low tones. I strutted like a turkey gobbler.
That evening, while we were having supper, a hunter dropped by.
He had a small box in his hand. Smiling, he said, “Everyone has agreed that we should have a jackpot for the winner.
I’ve been picked to do the collecting.” Grandpa said, “You may as well leave it here now.”
Looking at me, the hunter said, “Son, I think almost every man in this camp is hoping you win it, but it’s not going to be easy.
You’re going up against four of the finest hounds there are.”
Turning to my father, he said, “Did you know the two big walker hounds have won four gold cups?”
Very seriously, Papa said, “You know I have two mules down on my place.
One is almost as big as a barn. The other one isn’t much bigger than a jack rabbit, but that little mule can outpull the big one every time.”
Smiling, the hunter turned to leave. He said, “You could be right.”
Papa asked me again where I thought we should start hunting.
I had been thinking about this all day. I said, “You remember where we jumped the last coon in the swamp?”
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