Standing up, I peered this way and that. All I could see was a white wall of whirling sleet.
I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer and hoped for a miracle.
We heard a sharp crack and a loud crashing noise. A large limb, torn from a tree by the strong wind, fell to the ground.
The sharp crack of the limb gave me the idea. Shouting to my father, I said, “Shoot the gun.
If my dogs are close enough to hear it, maybe Little Ann will come to us.”
Papa didn’t hesitate. Pointing the gun high over his head, he pulled the trigger.
The sharp crack rang out into the teeth of the storm. We waited.
Just when I had given up all hope and had sunk to the lowest depth of despair, out of the white wall of driving sleet, my little dog came to me.
I knelt down and gathered her in my arms. Taking one of the lead ropes from my pocket, I tied it to her collar.
I said,Find him, little girl. Please find Old Dan.”
Right then I didn’t care about coons, gold cups, or anything. All I wanted was my dogs.
I don’t know how she did it. Straight into the face of the storm she led us.
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