Another breeze drifted out of the river bottoms. Little Ann caught the scent again.
Slowly she walked straight to the large gatepost,
reared up on it with her front feet, and bawled the most beautiful tree bark I ever heard in my life.
Old Dan, not understanding why Little Ann was bawling, stood and looked.
He walked over to the post, reared up on it, and sniffed.
Then, raising his head, he shook the dead leaves in the bur oak tree with his deep voice.
I looked at Rainie. Laughing, I said, “There’s your ghost coon. Now what do you think of my dogs?”
For once he made no reply. Going over to the post, I saw it was a large black locust put there many years ago to hang the gate.
Looking up at the tree, I saw how the ghost coon had pulled his trick.
One large long limb ran out and hung directly over the gate.
It was a drop of a good twelve feet from the branch to the top of the gatepost, but I knew we weren’t after an ordinary coon.
This was the ghost coon. I said to Rubin, “Boost me up and I’ll see if the post is hollow.”
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