Where the Red Fern Grows - Wilson Rawls [81]
Papa was watching me. "Can you hear the dogs?" he asked.
"No, not the dogs," I said, "but I can hear something else."
"What does it sound like?" he asked.
"Like someone whooping," I said.
Papa and the judge hurried up the bank. We heard the sound again. It was coming from a different direction.
"The first time I heard it," I said, "it was over that way."
"It's the men from camp," the judge said. "They're searching for us."
We started whooping. The searchers answered. Their voices came from all directions. The first one to reach us was Mr. Kyle. He looked haggard and tired. He asked if everything was all right.
"Yes, we're all right," Papa said, "but the old man has a bad ankle. It looks like we'll have to carry him out."
"Your team broke loose and came back to carnp about midnight," Mr. Kyle said. "This really spooked us. We were sure something bad had happened. Twenty-five of us have been searching since then."
Several men climbed down the bank and went over to Grandpa. They looked at his ankle. One said, "I don't think it's broken, but it sure is a bad sprain."
"You're in luck," another one said. "We have one of the best doctors in the state of Texas in our camp, Dr. Charley Lathman. He'll have you fixed up in no time."
"Yes," another said, "and if I know Charley, he's probably got a small hospital with him."
Back in the crowd, I heard another man say, "You mean that Lathman fellow, who owns those black and tan hounds, is a doctor?"
"Sure is," another said. "One of the best."
Mr. Kyle asked where my dogs were. I told him that they were treed somewhere.
"What do you mean, treed somewhere?" he asked.
Papa explained what had happened.
With a wide-eyed look on his face, he said, "Do you mean to tell me those hounds stayed with the tree in that blizzard?"
I nodded.
Looking at me, he said, "Son, I hope they have that coon treed, because you need that one to win the cup. Those two walker hounds caught three before the storm came up. When it got bad, all the hunters came in."
The judge spoke up. "I'll always believe that those hounds knew that boy needed another coon to win," he said. "If you fellows had seen some of the things those dogs have done, you'd believe it, too."
One hunter walked over to the broken snag. "Three out of one tree," he said. "No wonder, look here! That old snag was half-full of leaves and grass. Why, it was a regular old den tree."
Several of the men walked over. I heard one say, "I've seen this happen before. Remember that big hunt in the Red River bottoms, when the two little beagle hounds treed four coons in an old hollow snag? They won the championship, too."
"I wasn't there but I remember reading about it," one said.
"Say, I don't see Benson," Mr. Kyle said.
The men started looking at each other.
"He was searching farther downriver than the rest of us," one fellow said. "Maybe he didn't hear us shouting."
Some of the men climbed out of the gully. They started whooping. From a distance we heard an answering shout.
"He hears us," someone said. "He's coming."
Everyone looked relieved.
Mr. Benson struck thd washout a little way above us. He was breathing hard, as if he'd been running. He started talking as soon as he was within hearing distance.
"It scared me when I first saw them," he said. "I didn't know what they were. They looked like white ghosts. I'd never seen anything like it."
A hunter grabbed Mr. Benson by the shoulder, shaking him. "Get ahold of yourself, man," he said. "What are you talking about?"
Mr. Benson took a deep breath to control himself, and started again in a much calmer voice. "Those two hounds," he said. "I found them. They're frozen solid. They're nothing but white ice from the tips of their noses to the ends of their tails."
Hearing Mr. Benson's words, I screamed and ran to my father. Everything started whirling around and around. I felt light as a feather. My knees buckled. I knew no more.
Regaining consciousness, I opened my eyes and could dimly see the blurry images of the men around me. A hand was shaking me. I