He crossed the river time after time. Finally, swimming to the middle and staying in the swift current, he swam downstream.
Knowing he would have to come out somewhere, my dogs split up.
Old Dan took the right side. Little Ann worked the other side.
I came out of the bottoms onto a gravel bar and stood and watched them in the moonlight.
Little Ann worked downriver, and then she came up.
I saw her when she passed me going up the bank, sniffing and searching for the trail.
She came back to me. I patted her head, scratched her ears, and talked to her.
She kept staring across the river to where Old Dan was searching for the trail. She waded in and swam across to help him.
I knew that the coon had not come out of the river on her side. If he had, she would have found the trail.
I walked up to a riffle, pulled off my shoes, and waded across.
My dogs worked the riverbank, up and down. They circled far out into the bottoms.
I could hear the loud snuffing of Old Dan. He was bewildered and mad.
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