The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 11

"Old Boney's showin' 'em all the way!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"Yer can bet he always does that, Sonny!" the father answered. "That's a hot trail. Nigh ez I can figger we're goin' ter have some fun. There's more'n one c.o.o.n travelin' over that ground."

"How can you tell?" Dennis asked incredulously.

"Hit's too easy fer the other pups--they'd lose the scent now an' then ef they weren't but one. They ain't lost it a minute since they struck it--Lord, jest listen!"

He paused and held his breath.

"Did ye ever hear anything like hit on this yearth!" Dennis cried.

Every dog was opening now at the top of his voice at regular intervals, the swing and leap of their bodies over the brush and around the trees registering in each stirring note.

Again Tom gave a shout of approval.

The sound of the leader's voice suddenly flattened and faded.

"By Gum!" the old hunter cried, "they've left the woods, struck that field an' makin' for the creek! Ye won't need that axe ter-night, Dennis."

"Why?"

"Wait an' see!" was the short answer.

They hurried from the woods and had scarcely reached the edge of the field when suddenly old Boney's cry stopped short and in a moment the others were silent.

"Good Lord, they've lost it!" Dennis groaned.

And then came the quick, sharp, fierce bark of the leader announcing that the quarry had been located.

Tom gave a yell of triumph and started on a run for the spot.

"Up one o' them big sycamores in the edge o' that water I'll bet!"

Dennis wailed.

"You'll need no axe," was the older man's short comment.

They pushed their way rapidly through the cane to the banks of the creek and found the dogs scratching with might and main straight down into the sand about ten feet from the water's edge.

"Well, I'll be doggoned," Dennis cried, "if I ever seed anything like that afore! They've gone plum crazy. They ain't no hole here. A c.o.o.n can't jist drap inter the ground without a hole."

The old hunter laughed:

"No, but a c.o.o.n mought learn somethin' from a beaver now an' then an'

locate the door to his house under the water line an' climb up here ter find a safe place, couldn't he?"

"I don't believe it!" Dennis sneered.

"You'll have ter go to the house an' git a spade," Tom said finally.

"It'll take one ter dig a hole big enough ter ever persuade one er these dogs ter put his nose in that den. Hit ain't more'n a mile ter the house--hurry back."

Dennis started on a run.

"Don't yer let 'em out an' start that fight afore I git here!" he called.

"You'll see it all," Tom rea.s.sured him.

He made the dogs stop scratching and lie down to rest.

"Jest save yer strenk, boys," Tom cried. "Yer'll need it presently."

They sat down, the father lit his pipe and told the Boy the story of a great fight he had witnessed on such a creek bank once before in his life.

Day was dawning and the eastern sky reddening.

The Boy stamped on the solid ground and couldn't believe it possible that any dog could smell game through six feet of earth.

He lifted Boney's long nose and looked at it curiously. His wonderful nostrils were widely distended and though he lay quite still in the sand on the edge of the hole his muscles were quivering with excitement and his wistful hound eyes had in them now the red glare of coming battle.

It was quick work when Dennis arrived to throw the sand and soft earth away and open a hole five feet in depth and of sufficient width to allow all the dogs to get foothold inside.

Suddenly the spade crashed through an opening below and the rasp of sharp desperate teeth and claws rang against its polished surface.

"Did you hear that?" Tom laughed.

Another spadeful out and they could be plainly seen. How many it was impossible to tell, but three pairs of glowing bloodshot eyes in the shadows showed plainly.

Tom straightened his ma.s.sive figure and gave a shout to the dogs. They all danced around the upper rim of the hole and barked with fierce boastful yelps, but not one would venture his nose within two feet of those grim shining eyes.

"Well, Dennis," Tom sighed, "I reckon I'll have ter shove you down thar an' hold ye by the heels while yer pull one of 'em out!"

"I'll be doggoned ef yer do!" he remarked with emphasis.

Tom laughed. "You wuz afeared ye wouldn't git here in time ye know."

"Oh, I'm in time all right!"

The hunter put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the warriors below.

"Waal, we'll try ter git a dog ter yank one of 'em out an' then they'll all come. But I have my doubts. I don't believe that G.o.damighty ever yet built a dog that'll stick his nose in that hole. Hit takes three dogs ter kill one c.o.o.n in a fair fight. Old Boney's the only pup I ever seed do it by hisself. But it's askin' too much o' him ter stick his nose in a place like that with three of 'em lookin' right at him ready ter tear his eyes out. But they ain't nothin' like tryin'----"

He paused and looked at the old warrior of a hundred b.l.o.o.d.y fields, pointed at the bottom of the hole and in stern command shouted:

"Fetch 'em out, Bone!"

With a deep growl the faithful old soldier sprang to the front. With teeth shining in white gleaming rows he scrambled within a foot of the opening of the den, circled it twice, his eyes fixed on the flashing lights below. They followed his every move. He tried the stratagem of right and left flank movements, but the s.p.a.ce was too narrow. He dashed straight toward the opening once with a loud angry cry, hoping to get the flash of a coward's back. He met three double rows of white needle-like teeth daring him to come on.

He squatted flat on his belly and growled with desperate fury, but he wouldn't go closer. The hunter urged in vain.

"Hit's no use!" he cried at last. "Jest ez well axe er dog ter walk into a den er lions. I don't blame him."