"I figger—Yeah," said Mun.
Harky favored his traitorous father with a bitter glance. He put on his coat, and with the flashlight secure in a pocket he took the .22 and the coon-hunting axe in one hand and the lantern in the other.
"Duckfoot's gone," he said accusingly. "A coon come raiding our corn and he run off on it."
"It isn't my fault," Melinda pointed out. "Let's go find him."
"Where's Glory?"
"Outside, of course. Harold, if we take Glory down to your shocked corn, she'll pick up the same scent Duckfoot's already on. That way we'll find him easily, don't you think?"
Harky expressed what he thought in a ferocious scowl, his feelings in no way improved because Melinda had suggested the very thing he intended to do anyhow.
"C'mon," he said.
"Let me carry something."
"I got it, soon's I light the lantern."