Rubin, looking over my shoulder, said, 'That coon couldn't be in there. If he was, he'd be drowned.'
I agreed.
Rainie spoke up. 'You ready to pay off?' he asked. 'I told you them hounds couldn't tree the ghost coon.'
I told him the show wasn't over.
Little Ann had never bawled treed, and I knew she wouldn't until she knew exactly where the coon was. Working the bank up and down, and not finding the trail, she swam across the river and worked the other side. For a good half-hour she searched that side before she came back across to where Old Dan was. She sniffed around the hollow log.
'We might as well get away from here,' Rainie said. 'They ain't going to find the ghost coon.'
'It sure looks that way,' Rubin said.
I told them I wasn't giving up until my dogs did.
'You just want to be stubborn,' Rubin said. 'I'm ready for my money now.'
I asked him to wait a few minutes.
'Ain't no use,' he said. 'No hound yet ever treed that ghost coon.'
Hearing a whine, I turned around. Little Ann had crawled up on the log and was inching her way down the slick trunk toward the water. I held my lantern up so I could see better, Spraddle-legged, claws digging into the bark, she was easing her way down.
'You'd better get her out of there,' Rubin said. 'If she gets down in that old tree top, she'll drown.'
Rubin didn't know my Little Ann.
Once her feet slipped. I saw her hi'd quarters fall off to one side. She didn't get scared. Slowly she eased her legs back up on the log.
I made no reply. I just watched and waited.
Little Ann eased herself into the water. Swimming to the drift, she started sniffing around. In places it was thin and her legs would break through. Climbing, clawing, and swimming, she searched the drift over, looking for the lost trail.
I saw when she stopped searching. With her body half in the water, and her front feet curved over a piece of driftwood, she turned her head and looked toward the shore. I could see her head twisting from side to side. I could tell by her actions that she had gotten the scent. With a low whine, she started back.
I told Rubin, 'I think she smells something.'
Slowly and carefully she worked her way through the tangled mass. I lost sight of her when she came close to the undermined bank. She wormed her way under the overhang. I could hear her clawing and wallowing around, and then all hell broke loose. Out from under the bank came the biggest coon I had ever seen, the ghost coon.
He came out right over Little Ann. She caught him in the old treetop. I knew she was no match for him in that tangled mass of limbs and logs. He fought his way free and swam for the opposite bank. She was right behind him.
Old Dan didn't wait, look, or listen. He piled off the ten-foot bank and disappeared from sight. I looked for him. I knew he was tangled in the debris under the surface. I started to take off my overalls, but stopped when I saw his red head shoot up out of the water. Bawling and clawing his way free of the limbs and logs, he was on his way.
On reaching midstream, the ghost coon headed downriver with Little Ann still on his tail.
We ran down the riverbank. I could see my dogs clearly in the moonlight. The ghost coon was about fifteen feet ahead of Little Ann. About twenty-five yards behind them came Old Dan, trying so hard to catch up. I whooped to them.
Rubin grabbed a pole, saying, 'He may come out on this side.'
Knowing the ghost coon was desperate, I wondered what he would do. Reaching a gravel bar below the high bank, we ran out on it to the water's edge. Then the ghost coon did something that I never expected. Corning even with us, he turned from midstream and came straight for us.
