“That coon has been caught out from home,” said Jim-Polk, after a pause. “The dogs are between him and his hollow tree. He’s makin’ for that dreen in pap’s ten-acre field. There’s a pond there, and old Zip has gone there after a bait of frogs. Just wait till they turn his head this way.”
“Tut, tut, young man!” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, with something like a frown. “Ye talk like somebody readin’ from a book—upon me word ye do—and if that was all I’d not disagree wit’ ye; but ye go on and talk for all the world like ye had yure two blessed eyes on the coon all the time. Come! if ye know all that, how d’ye know it?”
“Well, sir,” said Jim-Polk, “the coon is three quarters of an hour ahead of the dogs—maybe a little more, maybe a little less. How do I know it? Why, because I know my dogs. They ain’t on their mettle. They ain’t runnin’ at more than half speed, if that. I can tell by the way they open on the trail. Old Loud is takin’ his time. When he gets the coon started home you’ll hear him fairly lumber. How do I know the coon is goin’ away from home? Shucks! My sev’n senses tell me that. We started out early. So did old Zip. He was at the pond huntin’ for frogs when he heard old Louder open. If he’s struck out on t’other side of the dreen we’ll have to wait tell the dogs fetch him back to the creek. If he struck out on this side, he’ll come right down the hollow below here. Let’s see what the dogs say.”
“Deyer ’livenin’ up,” said Harbert.
The hunters walked a few hundred yards to the verge of the slope that led to the bed of the creek. Suddenly the dogs were silent. Ten seconds—twenty; a half-minute passed, and nothing could be heard of the dogs.
“We may as well return home,” said Mr. Snelson. “The ravenous beasts have overtaken him, and they’ll lay by till they’ve devoured him. Upon me soul, it’s queer tastes they have!”
“Oh, no,” replied Jim-Polk. “Dogs’ll eat rabbits and squirrels, but they never eat coons nor ’possums. You’ll hear from Jolly and Loud terreckly, and then they’ll be a-gallantin’ old Zip home. Just listen!”
As he spoke Loud gave mouth with a roar that filled the woods, and he was immediately joined by Jolly, whose quicker and more decisive voice chimed in as a pleasant accompaniment.
“They are cornin’ right this way!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, breathlessly. “Don’t make a fuss—just be right still, so’s not to skeer the coon across the creek. Jewhillikens! Jest listen at old Loud a-lumberin’!”
And it was worth listening to. The mettle of the dog—of both dogs—was now fairly up, and they gave voice with a heat and vigor that could hardly have been improved upon if they had been in sight of the fleeing raccoon. They seemed to be running at full speed. They passed within twenty yards of where the hunters stood, snorting fiercely as they caught their breath to bark. As they went by, Harbert sent a wild halloo after them that seemed to add to their ardor.