“There’s no telling where they are. They may have crossed the river.”
Scared and knowing I had to do something, I said, “They’re closer than you think, probably treed by now. You can’t hear them for this wind.”
I begged, “Let’s go a little further.” There was no reply and no one made a move to leave the shelter of the trees.
Taking a few steps, I said, “I’ll take the lead. Just follow me.”
“Billy, we couldn’t find them,” Papa said. “You can’t see or hear a thing. We had better start back for camp.”
“I think so, too,” the judge said. At this remark, I cried, “I’ve been out in storms like this before, all by myself.
I’ve never left my dogs in the woods, and I’m not going to now, even if I have to look for them by myself.”
No one answered. “Please go just a little further,” I begged.
“I just know we’ll hear them.” Still no one spoke or made a move to go on.
Stepping over to my father, I buried my face in his old mackinaw coat.
Sobbing, I pleaded with him not to turn back. He patted my head.
“Billy,” he said, “a man could freeze to death in this storm, and besides, your dogs will give up and come in.”
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