“Old Zip is in trouble,” said Jim-Polk. “He has been turnin’ an’ doublin’, an’ twistin’, an’ squirmin’. He can’t shake ole Loud off, an’ he can’t git home. So what’s he goin’ to do?”
“Climb another tree, I reckon,” said Joe.
“Not much!” exclaimed Jim. “He’ll take to water.”
The dogs got no farther away, but the chase still kept up. The coon seemed to be going in all directions, across and around, and presently the dogs began to bay.
“He’s gone in a-washin’!” exclaimed Jim-Polk, with a yell.
“Bless me soul! and how do ye know that?” exclaimed Mr. Snelson, who came up puffing and blowing.
“Oh, I know mor’n that,” said Jim-Polk. “The coon’s in the water, ’cause when the dogs bark at him it don’t soun’ like it did when they had their heads in the air; an’ he’s in swimmin’ water, ’cause, if he wan’t, he’d a’ been kilt by this time.”
It was as Jim-Polk said. When the hunters reached the dogs they could see the coon swimming around and around in the center of a small lagoon, while the dogs were rushing about on the banks.
“I wish to goodness,” exclaimed Harbert, “dat dey wuz some young dogs wid us, bekaze den we’d have de biggest kind er fight. Dey’d swim in dar atter dat coon, an’ he’d fetch um a swipe er two, an’ den jump on der heads an’ duck um. Gentermens! he sholy is a big un.”
“You’re right!” exclaimed Jim-Polk. “He’s one of the old-timers. He’d put up a tremen-jus fight if he didn’t have old Loud to tackle.—Fetch him out, boys!” he cried to the dogs, “fetch him out!”