The judge looked at his watch. “It’s almost five o’clock,” he said.
“It’s not long till daylight,” Grandpa said. “Then if you want to go, you can see where you’re going.
Now help me get propped up against this bank. I’ll be all right. It doesn’t hurt any more. It’s numb now.”
“He’s right,” the judge said. “Think you can stand it?” Papa asked.
Grandpa roared like a bear. “Sure I can stand it. It’s nothing but a sprained ankle.
I’m not going to die. Build that fire up a little more.
While Papa and the judge made Grandpa comfortable, I carried wood for the fire.
There’s no use standing around gawking at me,Grandpa said. “I’m all right.
Get the coon out of that tree. That’s what we came for, isn’t it?”
Up until then, the coon-hunting had practically been forgotten. The tree was about thirty feet from our fire.
We walked over and took a good look at it for the first time.
My dogs, seeing we were finally going to pay some attention to them, started bawling and running around the tree.
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