The judge saw their strange actions. Laying a hand on my shoulder, he asked, “What did they say, son?”
I said, “Nothing that anyone could understand, but I can feel that they know this hunt is important.
They know it just as well as you or I.” It was Little Ann who found the trail.
Before the echo of her sharp cry had died away, Old Dan’s deep voice floated out of the swamp.
“Well, let’s go,” Papa said eagerly. “No, let’s wait a minute,” I said. “Wait? Why?” Grandpa asked.
“To see which way he’s going to run,” I said. The coon broke out of the swamp and headed for the river.
Listening to my dogs, I could tell they were close to him.
I said to Papa, “I don’t think he’ll ever make it to the river. They’re right on his heels now.”
By the time we had circled the swamp, they were bawling treed.
The judge said, “Boy, that was fast.” I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder.
Looking at me, he smiled and nodded his head. Papa and I knew I had judged the coon perfectly.
He didn’t have time to reach the river or the mountains.
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