Looking at me, Mr. Kyle said, “Come on, son. I want to see your hounds.” Mr. Benson led the way.
“As soon as we get out of this cane,” he said, “we may be able to hear them. They have the coon treed in a big black gum tree.
You’re going to see a sight. Now I mean a sight. They’ve walked a ring around that tree clear down through the ice and snow.
You can see the bare ground.” “Wonder why they did that?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Benson replied, “unless they ran in that circle to keep from freezing to death, or to keep the coon in the tree.”
I figured I knew why my dogs were covered with ice.
The coon had probably crossed the river, maybe several times. Old Dan and Little Ann would have followed him.
They had come out of the river with their coats dripping wet, and the freezing blast of the blizzard had done the rest.
Nearing the tree, we stopped and stared. “Did you ever see anything like that?” Mr. Benson asked.
“When I first saw them, I thought they were white wolves.”
My dogs hadn’t seen us when we came up. They were trotting round and round.
Just as Mr. Benson had said, we could see the path they had worn down through the ice and snow till the bare black earth was visible.
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