After breaking off a long Jimson weed to use as a prod, I got up on Rubin’s shoulder, and he raised me up.
The post was hollow. Not knowing how far down the hole went, I started the switch down.
About halfway, I felt something soft. I gave it a hard jab. I heard him coming. He boiled out right in my face. I let go of everything.
Hitting the ground, I rolled over on my back and looked up.
For a split second, the ghost coon stayed on top of the post, and then he jumped.
My dogs were on him the instant he hit the ground.
The fight was on. I knew the coon didn’t have a chance as he wasn’t in the waters of the river.
He didn’t give up easily even though he was on dry land. He was fighting for his life and a good account he gave.
He fought his way to freedom, and made it back to the bur oak tree.
He was a good six feet up the side when Old Dan, leaping high in the air, caught him and pulled him back down.
At the foot of the tree, the fight went on. Again the ghost coon fought his way free.
This time he made it and disappeared in the dark shadows of the tree.
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