Part 14 (1/2)

Thunder and Duckfoot, blessed with voices that would have awakened Rip Van Winkle, were presently joined by Queenie and Glory. Old Joe scratched his left ear with his right hind paw, a sure sign of nervousness. On various occasions one hound had trailed him to the sycamore, a few times there'd been two, but never before had there been four hounds at the sycamore's base.

Again Old Joe was tempted to resort to his tunnel. Again he refrained and waited for the hunters.

Harky and Melinda came. Old Joe wriggled his black nose. Harky, usually the first to arrive at any tree when a c.o.o.n was up, he knew well. His acquaintance with Melinda was only casual. He heard the pair talking.

”When he wants to get out,” Harky avowed seriously, ”some say he climbs out on a limb and drops back into the slough. On t'other hand, some say he grows wings and takes off like a bird.”

”How silly!” Melinda exclaimed.

”Yeah?” Harky asked truculently. ”Watta you know about it?”

Melinda declared scornfully, ”Enough not to believe such nonsense! He has a den somewhere in that sycamore and he's in it right now! The only reason n.o.body ever found it is because everyone's been too lazy to climb!”

”And how you gonna climb?” Harky demanded.

”Just cut one of these smaller trees, brace it against the crotch of the sycamore, and s.h.i.+nny up it,” Melinda a.s.serted.

Harky said nothing because this purely revolutionary scheme left him speechless.

Old Joe's uneasiness mounted. Though he understood no part of the conversation, he had no doubt that a new force had invaded c.o.o.n hunts.

The men who'd always come to his magic sycamore had been happy just to get there, proud of hounds able to track Old Joe so far, and amenable to the idea that neither hounds nor humans could further cope with a c.o.o.n that was part witch.

Old Joe didn't know what she was, but Melinda was definitely not a man.

The rest of the hunters arrived, but before they could begin their ritual that had to do with the invincibility of Old Joe, Melinda threw her bombsh.e.l.l.

”I was telling Harold,” she said brightly, ”that Old Joe has a den somewhere in this big sycamore. Why don't we fell a smaller tree, brace it against the sycamore, and s.h.i.+nny up to find out?”

”By gum!” Mun said.

As soon as the three men recovered from this flagrant violation of everything right and proper, Old Joe heard the sound of an axe. A tree was toppled, trimmed, and leaned against the sycamore.

”Let me go up, Pa,” Harky said.

Mun a.s.serted, ”If anybody's goin' to have fust look at Old Joe's den, it'll be me.”

Mun and Old Joe started to climb.

”Thar he scampers!” yelled Raw Stanfield.

Old Joe continued to scamper, paying no attention whatever to the fact that, while excitement reigned, Mun fell out of the sycamore. Old Joe climbed out on the limb and tumbled into his tunnel.

Duckfoot, who'd noted the obvious escape route but was just a split second too late, tumbled in behind him. Both the tunnel and Old Joe, however, were low-built. Duckfoot, considerably farther from the ground, had to crawl where Old Joe ran.

The big c.o.o.n ran out of the tunnel and into the swamp with a safe enough lead. But the next morning's sun was two hours high before he managed to shake Duckfoot from his trail.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]