That evening we climbed into Grandpa's buggy and headed for the swamp. It was dark by the time we reached it.
Grandpa handed Papa his gun, saying. 'You're getting to be a pretty good shot with this thing.'
'I hope I get to shoot it a lot tonight,' Papa said.
Under my breath, I said, 'I do, too.'
After untying the ropes from my dogs, I held onto their collars for a minute. Pulling them up close, I knelt down and whispered, 'This is the last night. I know you'll do your best.'
They seemed to understand and tugged at their collars. When I turned them loose, they started for the timber. Just as they reached the dark shadows, they stopped, turned around, and stared straight at me for an instant.
The judge saw their strange actions. Laying a hand on my shoulder, he asked, 'What did they say, son?'
I said, 'Nothing that anyone could understand, but I can feel that they know this hunt is important. They know it just as well as you or I.'
It was Little Ann who found the trail. Before the echo of her sharp cry had died away, Old Dan's deep voice floated out of the swamp.
'Well, let's go,' Papa said eagerly.
'No, let's wait a minute,' I said.
'Wait? Why?' Grandpa asked.
'To see which way he's going to run,' I said.
The coon broke out of the swamp and headed for the river. Listening to my dogs, I could tell they were close to him. I said to Papa, 'I don't think he'll ever make it to the river. They're right on his heels now.'
By the time we had circled the swamp, they were bawling treed.
The judge said, 'Boy, that was fast.'
I felt my father's hand on my shoulder. Looking at me, he smiled and nodded his head. Papa and I knew I had judged the coon perfectly. He didn't have time to reach the river or the mountains.
My dogs had treed the coon in a tall ash which stood about fifty yards from the river. I knew the fifty yards had saved us a good hour, because he could have pulled trick after trick if he had gotten in the water.
We spied the coon in the topmost branches. At the crack of the gun, he ran far out on a limb and jumped. He landed in an old fallen treetop. He scooted through it. Coming out on the other side, he ran for the river. The tangled mass of limbs slowed my dogs and they all but tore the-treetop apart getting out of it. The coon was just one step ahead of them as they reached the river. We heard them hit the water.
Running over, we stood and watched the fight. The coon was at home in the river. He crawled up on Old Dan's head, trying to force him under. Before he could do it, Little Ann reached up and pulled him off.
In a scared voice, Papa said, 'That water looks deep to me.'
'Maybe you had better call them off,' said the judge. 'That's a big coon and he could drown one of them easily in that deep water.'
'Call them off?' I said. 'Why, you couldn't whip them off with-a stick. There's no use for anyone to get scared. They know exactly what they're doing. I've seen this more times than one.'
Grandpa was scared and excited. He was jumping up and down, whooping and hollering.
Papa raised the gun to aim.
I jumped and grabbed his arm. 'Don't do that,' I yelled. 'You're sure to hit one of my dogs.'
Round and round in the deep water the fight went on. The coon climbed on Old Dan's head and sank his teeth in one of his long tender ears. Old Dan bawled with pain. Little Ann swam in and caught one of the coon's hind legs in her mouth. She tried hard to pull him off. All three disappeared under the water.
I held my breath.
