The last days of September were drawing to a close when Sam, Luther, Avery Talfa,
Rhpad Melton, and yours truly started out for a little coon chase. Sam, Luther and myself having two dogs apiece, which made six in all, and believe me there was some of as good dogs in that pack as ever struck a coon trail.
We hadn't gone far until our dogs struck a trail and treed in a large hollow log and Luther, of course, was the first one to reach the dogs, as he would run himself to death or stay ahead of the bunch, so he hallooed for the lantern and axe, so we went down to him. The log had some holes chopped in it, as it had been cut for an opossum, I suppose, and Luther thought there was another in it. We told him there was none, but he swore and said it was an opossum for he heard it growl, and told us the skunk scent we smelled was on the dogs' noses, they had killed the night before. He had some of the boys to hold dogs and told me to get a stick and run it out to him, he himself being at another hole with the lantern in one hand and his mug stuck up in the hole so he could see to get Mr. Sam by the tail and I had noticed some time before that one of my hound pups had crawled up in the log and was whining and growling instead of the opossum. Well, I gave a punch or two and you can imagine his surprise when I ran a big skunk out backwards in his face. He yelled for us to hold his dog and show him the way to the brush, he didn't want his dog to fight it and you had better beat it. We gave him the horse laugh about the skunk scent on the dogs' noses and the opossum growling.
Well, we went on and caught a fine coon and opossum but none of that crowd has ever forgotten that opossum growling.
Rules R. Melton, Thornburg, Ark.
Hunter-Trader-Trapper. October: 1921,
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