“Men,” said Mr. Kyle, “people have been trying to understand dogs ever since the beginning of time.
One never knows what they’ll do. You can read every day where a dog saved the life of a drowning child, or lay down his life for his master.
Some people call this loyalty. I don’t. I may be wrong, but I call it love—the deepest kind of love.
After these words were spoken, a thoughtful silence settled over the men.
The mood was broken by the deep growling voice I had heard back in the washout.
“It’s a shame that people all over the world can’t have that kind of love in their hearts,” he said.
“There would be no wars, slaughter, or murder; no greed or selfishness. It would be the kind of world that God wants us to have—a wonderful world.”
After all the ice was thawed from my dogs and their coats were dried out, I could see they were all right.
I was happy again and felt good all over. One of the hunters said, “Do you think those hounds are thawed out enough to fight a coon?”
“Sure, just run him out of that tree,” I said. At the crack of the gun, the coon ran far out on a big limb and stopped.
Again the hunter sprinkled him with bird shot. This time he jumped. Hitting the ground, he crouched down. Old Dan made a lunge.
Just as he reached him, the coon sprang straight up and came down on his head.
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