Ted Strong in Montana - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel Ted Strong in Montana Part 6 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
"Let loose o' me," shouted Bud. "Why, ther feller's plumb daffy on ghosts. He says as how this shack is haunted, an' he's plumb loco."
"Yah. Didn't we just hear der ghostes yell mit der outside?" said Carl, who had been thrust away from his clutch on Bud, and was standing in the middle of the floor, trembling like one with the ague.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Ted. "Ghost, eh? It was me calling to the cattle, and sending them back from the line."
"Yah, aber I seen mit mine own eyes der green ones oof der ghost up in dot corner, und heart him on der roof."
"Come outside, and I'll show you the footprints of the ghost," said Ted, leading the way.
Out in the snow by the side of the cabin Ted showed them several tracks, something like a small hand, which ended at the wall of the cabin.
"That's where the ghost went up," said Ted. "Let's climb the wall, and see what is on the roof."
It was easy climbing up the log wall, for there were plenty of footholds.
When they were high enough to look over the edge of the roof, Bud gave an exclamation of surprise, and then burst out laughing, in which Ted joined.
But Carl could not see the joke.
"It's a vild cat," he shouted, scrambling to the ground.
"It ain't, neither," a.s.severated Bud. "It's a bully little ole pet c.o.o.n.
That's what it is."
He held out his hand, and the c.o.o.n, making a queer little chuckling noise, came slowly toward him as he held out his finger, which the sharp-eyed little beast clasped in its fingerlike paw and pulled.
Bud reached out, tucked it under his arm, and climbed down with it.
"This yere c.o.o.n was a pet ter ther fellers what rid line yere before,"
said Bud, when they were in the cabin again. "He's been hangin' eround ever since, an' when he saw us he thought it wuz his ole pardners come back. He's been taught ter swipe hats an' drop 'em down inter ther house through ther chimbley hole. That accounts fer it, an' I reckon he's ther whole ghost."
"Yah, mebbe I d.i.n.ks so," said Carl, who looked rather sheepish at his exhibition of fear.
"He's a smart little piece," said Ted. "By the way, Carl, get busy with the pots and pans. I'm going to stay to supper and sleep here to-night.
I've got the cattle and the boys planted, and it is too far to go on to the ranch house to-night. Stella and Kit went back an hour ago."
Carl went to work to cook supper, while Bud played with the c.o.o.n, which was as full of tricks as a monkey, and kept the boys laughing all the time.
"A c.o.o.n is a mighty smart animile," said Bud as they sat down to supper.
"So I've heard," said Ted. "But I've never seen many of them."
"Dere is no such beast in Chermany," Carl put in proudly.
"That's so," said Bud. "Ameriky is the land o' ther free, an' ther home o' ther c.o.o.n. Never went c.o.o.n huntin', did yer, Ted?"
"I never did."
"Well, ye've missed some mighty good fun. Down in Missouri is whar ther c.o.o.n grows wild an' independent, an' ther ain't one o' them what's come o' age what ain't as smart as ary congressman you ever see."
"I've heard something about c.o.o.n hunting," said Ted.
"It's great down in Missouri. Thar's whar ther c.o.o.n trees grow."
"Vat such foolishment for?" said Carl, with a sneer. "c.o.o.ns don't grow mit trees on."
"n.o.body said they could, but they live in trees, yer loony. A ole gum tree what's holler is ther home o' ther c.o.o.n. Thar's whar ther best c.o.o.n dogs come from, too. Ever hunt c.o.o.ns with a dog?" continued Bud.
"Never did," said Ted. "It seems too picayunish fer me. I like bigger game than that. Besides, I don't care much fer hunting in the nighttime."
"Do they hunt mit der c.o.o.ns in der nighttime?" asked Carl, who was beginning to be interested.
"Sh.o.r.e! That's ther time ter tree 'em. My Uncle Fletcher out in ole Missou, we ust ter call him ole Unc' Fletch, had four or five c.o.o.n dogs that was ther cream o' the c.o.o.n-huntin' canines in several counties, an'
Unc' Fletch was out near every night chasin' c.o.o.ns."
"Many of them there?" asked Ted.
"Ther country was overrun with 'em. They ust ter eat all ther roastin'
ears o' corn in ther bottom lands, an' git away with more chickens than ever those that raised 'em did, until it got so that ther farmers said they was only raisin' corn an' chickens ter keep ther c.o.o.ns fat."
"No money in that."
"Not much. But I wuz goin' ter tell yer what happened ter Unc' Fletch one night ter show how plenty c.o.o.ns wuz in his section.
"One night he starts out with his best c.o.o.n dog, Ballyhoo, so called because he made sech a noise when he treed a c.o.o.n.
"Bally runs acrost ther scent o' a c.o.o.n an' takes after it. Unc' Fletch trails along, an' Ballyhoo stops at a big sycamore tree. But there don't seem ter be no hole, an' after unc' looks around, an' can't find nothin', he calls Ballyhoo off, an' they start through ther woods ag'in.
"Pretty soon Ballyhoo scents another c.o.o.n, an', by jing, it leads them ter ther same sycamore. About twenty times that night they strikes ther scent, an' every time it stops at the same tree.
"Now, Unc' Fletch wuz some o' a woodman, an' he says it ain't nat'ral fer ther dog ter tree so many c.o.o.ns at ther same place, an' wonders if thar is somethin' wrong with ther dog, if he's gone daffy, er whether it's jest an onusual smart c.o.o.n what has gone out jest ter have a joke by runnin' them ter ther same tree every time.
"While he is contemplatin' thus he is leanin' with his back ter ther tree. Pritty soon he thinks he'll go home, an' he starts away sorter disgustedlike with ther night's sport, an', by gee, he finds he's caught by ther tail o' his coat an' can't break loose.
"He tries ter get away, but he's sh.o.r.e fast. He reaches around, an' ther tree hez got hold o' him all right, an' bein' some superst.i.tious, Unc'
Fletch begins ter git some scared. Then he ricollects about hearin' the colored folks talk about the haunted c.o.o.n tree."
"c.o.o.ns is ghostes, not?" asked Carl.
"Wait an' you'll hear," continued Bud. "Long about this time, Ballyhoo begins ter howl in ther most sad an' lonesome way, an' that don't make Unc' Fletch feel any better. Jest as he's thinkin' about hollerin' fer help----"
"Why didn't he skin out of his coat, and leave it sticking to the tree?"
asked Ted.
"I ast him ther same question, an' he says as how he was too plumb scared ter do sich a thing. But jest as he was goin' ter holler he finds that he's loose, an' all his s.p.u.n.k comes back again.
"Then he begun ter be curious ter find out what it was that held him fast. He lights a fire an' gets a torch ter examine ther tree, but can't find nothin' that would hev cotched him thataway.
"But as he's lookin' ther strangest thing happens. Ther tree opens a crack runnin' all ther way from ther roots up as far as Unc' Fletch kin see. Ther crack is big ernuff ter put yer finger in, but Unc' Fletch doesn't do no such fool trick ez that.