The second's roving eye lighted on the kennel and then noticed Sue. "Thar's another hound."
"Ya don't know," the first said, "that it'll hunt coons."
The second declared, "If it's Rafe's, it'll hunt coons. I'm goin' to git it."
"Keerful," the first man warned. "That Major hound'll take the arm off anybody 'cept Rafe what tries to touch it."
"Le's see what this'n does."
The second man left the hybrid car and approached Sue, who waited with appeasing eyes and gently wagging tail. When the man laid his hand on her head, Sue licked his fingers.
"Tame's a kitten," the man declared jubilantly. "I'll fetch her."
He untied the rope, and the instant she was free, Sue slipped aside and raced toward the woods. Not in the least affected by the anguished, "Here, doggie! Come on back, doggie!" that rose behind her, she entered the forest at exactly the same point she'd left it to meet Rafe Bradley's hound.
The cries faded and only the whisper of the wind kept her company as Sue traveled on. Suddenly there was a great need that had not existed before to put distance between herself and Rafe Bradley's clearing. Sue traveled until near morning, then crawled gratefully beneath the thick branches of a wind-toppled pine. She turned around and around to smooth a bed.
The sun was just rising when her pup was born.