Where the Red Fern Grows - Wilson Rawls [20]
I told my mother I had seen the schoolhouse in town. Again I had to answer a thousand questions for my sisters. I told them it was made of red brick and was bigger than Grandpa's store, a lot bigger. There must have been at least a thousand kids going to school there.
I told all about the teeter-totters, the swings made out of log chains, the funny-looking pipe that ran up the side of the building, and how I had climbed up in it and slid out like the other kids. I didn't tell them how I came out.
"I think that was a fire escape," Papa said.
"Fire escape!" I said. "It looked like a slide to me."
"Did you notice where it made that bend up at the top?" he asked.
I nodded my head.
"Well, inside the school there's a door," he said. "If the school gets on fire, they open the door. The children jump hi the pipe and slide out to safety."
"Boy, that's a keen way of getting out of a fire," I said.
"Well, it's getting late," Papa said. "We'll talk about this some other time. We'd better get to bed as we have a lot of work to do tomorrow,"
My pups were put in the corncrib for the night. I covered them with shucks and kissed them good night.
The next day was a busy one for me. With the hampering help of my sisters I made the little doghouse.
Papa cut the ends off his check lines and gave them to me for collars. With painstaking care, deep in the tough leather I scratched the name "Old Dan' on one and "Little Ann" on the other. With a nail and a rock two holes were punched in each end of the straps. I put them around their small necks and laced the ends together with bailing wire.
That evening I had a talk with my mother. I told her about praying for the two pups, about the magazine and the plans I had made. I told her how hard I had tried to find names for them and how strange i* was finding them carved in the bark of a sycamore tree.
With a smile on her face, she asked, "Do you believe God heard your prayer and helped you?"
"Yes, Mama," I said. "I know He did and I'll always be thankful."
VII
IT SEEMS THAT THE WORRIES AND WANTS OF A YOUNG BOY never cease. Now that I had my pups another obstacle had cropped up. This one looked absolutely impossible. I had to have a coonskin so I could train them.
With my three little traps and a bulldogged determination, I set out to trap Mister Ringtail. For three solid weeks I practically lived on the river. I tried every trick I knew. It was no use. I just couldn't catch the wiley old coons.
In desperation I went to my grandfather. He smiled as he listened to my tale of woe. "Well, we'll have to do something about that," he said. "To train those dogs right, you'll need that coon hide, that's for sure. Now you watch the store while I go over to my tool shed. I'll be right back."
After what seemed like an eternity I saw him coming. He was carrying a brace and bit, that was all.
With a mischievous little smile on his face, he said, "You wouldn't think a fellow could catch a coon with this brace and bit, would you?"
I thought he was kidding me and it made me feel bad. "Why, Grandpa," I said, "you couldn't catch a coon in a jillion years with that thing. You just don't have any idea how smart they are."
"Yes, you can," he said. "You bet your boots you can. Why, when I was a boy I caught coons on top of coons with one of these things."
I saw Grandpa was serious and I got interested.
He laid the brace down on the counter, picked up a small paper sack, and filled it about half-full of horseshoe nails,
"Now you do everything exactly as I tell you," he said, "and you'll catch that coon."
"Yes, sir, Grandpa," I said, "I will. I'll do anything to catch one of them."
"Now the first thing you'll need is some bright objects," he said. "The best thing is bright shiny tin. Cut out some little round pieces, a little smaller than this bit. Do you understand?"
I nodded my head.
"Now," he said, "you go down along the river where there are a lot of coon tracks. Find a good solid log close by and bore a hole down about six inches. Drop one of the