After that she let him spend long hours at the spring playing with boys and girls of his age. He didn't go into the meetings again. But he enjoyed the season. The watermelons, muskmelons, and ginger cakes were the best he had ever eaten.
IX
During the Christmas holidays the father got ready for a coon hunt in which the Boy should see his first battle royal in the world of sport.
Dennis came over and brought four extra dogs, two of his own and two which he had borrowed for the holidays.
A sudden change came over the spirit of old Boney—short for Napoleon Bonaparte. He understood the talk about coons as clearly as if he could speak the English language. He was in a quiver of eager excitement. He knew from the Boy's talk that he was going, too. He wagged his tail, pushed his warm nose under his little friend's arm, whining and trembling while he tried to explain what it meant to strike a coon's trail in the deep night, chase him over miles of woods and swamps and field, tree him and fight it out, a battle to the death between dog and beast!
At two o'clock, before day, his father's voice called and in a jiffy he was down the ladder, his eyes shining. He had gone to sleep with his clothes on and lost no time in dressing.
Without delay the start was made. Down the dim pathway to the creek and then along its banks for two miles, its laughing waters rippling soft music amid the shadows, or gleaming white and mirror-like in the starlit open spaces.
In half an hour the stars were obscured by a thin veil of fleecy clouds, and, striking no trail in the bottoms, they turned to the big tract of woods on the hills and plunged straight into their depths for two miles.
"Hush!"
Tom suddenly stopped: