During the Christmas holidays the father got ready for a coon hunt in which the Boy should see his first battle royal in the world of sport.

Dennis came over and brought four extra dogs, two of his own and two which he had borrowed for the holidays.

A sudden change came over the spirit of old Boney—short for Napoleon Bonaparte. He understood the talk about coons as clearly as if he could speak the English language. He was in a quiver of eager excitement. He knew from the Boy\'s talk that he was going, too. He wagged his tail, pushed his warm nose under his little friend\'s arm, whining and trembling while he tried to explain what it meant to strike a coon\'s trail in the deep night, chase him over miles of woods and swamps and field, tree him and fight it out, a battle to the death between dog and beast!

At two o\'clock, before day, his father\'s voice called and in a jiffy he was down the ladder, his eyes shining. He had gone to sleep with his clothes on and lost no time in dressing.

Without delay the start was made. Down the dim pathway to the creek and then along its banks for two miles, its laughing waters rippling soft music amid the shadows, or gleaming white and mirror-like in the starlit open spaces.

In half an hour the stars were obscured by a thin veil of fleecy clouds, and, striking no trail in the bottoms, they turned to the big tract of woods on the hills and plunged straight into their depths for two miles.

"Hush!"

Tom suddenly stopped:

Far off to the right came the bark of a dog on the run.

"Ain\'t that old Boney\'s voice?" the father asked.

"I don\'t think so," the Boy answered.

The note of wild savage music was one he had never heard before.

"Yes it was, too," was the emphatic decision. He squared his broad shoulders and gave the hunter\'s shout of answer-joy to the dog\'s call.

Never had the Boy heard such a shout from human lips. It sent shivers down his spine.

The dog heard and louder came the answering note, a deep tremulous boom through the woods that meant to the older man\'s trained ear that he was on the run.

"That\'s old Boney shore\'s yer born!" the father cried, "an\' he ain\'t got no doubts \'bout hit nother. He\'s got his head in the air. The trail\'s so hot he don\'t have ter nose the ground. You\'ll hear somethin\' in a minute when the younger pups git to him."

Two hounds suddenly opened with long quivering wails.

"Thar\'s my dogs—they\'ve hit it now!" Dennis cried excitedly.

Another hound joined the procession, then another and another, and in two minutes the whole pack of eight were in full cry.

Again the hunter\'s deep voice rang his wild cheer through the woods and every dog raised his answering cry a note higher.

"Ain\'t that music!" Tom cried in ecstacy.

They stood and listened. The dogs were still in the woods and with each yelp were coming nearer. Evidently the trail led toward them, but in the rear and almost toward the exact spot at which they had entered the forest.

"Just listen at old Boney!" the Boy cried. "I can tell him now. He can beat \'em all!"

Loud and clear above the chorus of the others rang the long savage boom of Boney\'s voice, quivering with passion, defiant, daring, sure of victory! It came at regular intervals as if to measure the miles that separated him from the battle he smelled afar. He was far in the lead. He was past-master of this sport. The others were not in his class.

The Boy\'s heart swelled with pride.

"Old Boney\'s showin\' \'em all the way!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"Yer can bet he always does that, Sonny!" the father answered. "That\'s a hot trail. Nigh ez I can figger we\'re goin\' ter have some fun. There\'s more\'n one coon travelin\' over that ground."

"How can you tell?" Dennis asked incredulously.

"Hit\'s too easy fer the other pups—they\'d lose the scent now an\' then ef they weren\'t but one. They ain\'t lost it a minute since they struck it—Lord, jest listen!"

He paused and held his breath.

"Did ye ever hear anything like hit on this yearth!" Dennis cried.

Every dog was opening now at the top of his voice at regular intervals, the swing and leap of their bodies over the brush and around the trees registering in each stirring note.

Again Tom gave a shout of approval.

The sound of the leader\'s voice suddenly flattened and faded.

"By Gum!" the old hunter cried, "they\'ve left the woods, struck that field an\' makin\' for the creek! Ye won\'t need that axe ter-night, Dennis."

"Why?"

"Wait an\' see!" was the short answer.

They hurried from the woods and had scarcely reached the edge of the field when suddenly old Boney\'s cry stopped short and in a moment the others were silent.

"Good Lord, they\'ve lost it!" Dennis groaned.

And then came the quick, sharp, fierce bark of the leader announcing that the quarry had been located.

Tom gave a yell of triumph and started on a run for the spot.

"Up one o\' them big sycamores in the edge o\' that water I\'ll bet!" Dennis wailed.

"You\'ll need no axe," was the older man\'s short comment.

They pushed their way rapidly through the cane to the banks of the creek and found the dogs scratching with might and main straight down into the sand about ten feet from the water\'s edge.

"Well, I\'ll be doggoned," Dennis cried, "if I ever seed anything like that afore! They\'ve gone plum crazy. They ain\'t no hole here. A coon can\'t jist drap inter the ground without a hole."

The old hunter laughed:

"No, but a coon mought learn somethin\' from a beaver now an\' then an\' locate the door to his house under the water line an\' climb up here ter find a safe place, couldn\'t he?"

"I don\'t believe it!" Dennis sneered.

"You\'ll have ter go to the house an\' git a spade," Tom said finally. "It\'ll take one ter dig a hole big enough ter ever persuade one er these dogs ter put his nose in that den. Hit ain\'t more\'n a mile ter the house—hurry back."

Dennis started on a run.

"Don\'t yer let \'em out an\' start that fight afore I git here!" he called.

"You\'ll see it all," Tom reassured him.

He made the dogs stop scratching and lie down to rest.

"Jest save yer strenk, boys," Tom cried. "Yer\'ll need it presently."

They sat down, the father lit his pipe and told the Boy the story of a great fight he had witnessed on such a creek bank once before in his life.

Day was dawning and the eastern sky reddening.

The Boy stamped on the solid ground and couldn\'t believe it possible that any dog could smell game through six feet of earth.

He lifted Boney\'s long nose and looked at it curiously. His wonderful nostrils were widely distended and though he lay quite still in the sand on the edge of the hole his muscles were quivering with excitement and his wistful hound eyes had in them now the red glare of coming battle.

It was quick work when Dennis arrived to throw the sand and soft earth away and open a hole five feet in depth and of sufficient width to allow all the dogs to get foothold inside.

Suddenly the spade crashed through an opening below and the rasp of sharp desperate teeth and claws rang against its polished surface.

"Did you hear that?" Tom laughed.

Another spadeful out and they could be plainly seen. How many it was impossible to tell, but three pairs of glowing bloodshot eyes in the shadows showed plainly.

Tom straightened his massive figure and gave a shout to the dogs. They all danced around the upper rim of the hole and barked with fierce boastful yelps, but not one would venture his nose within two feet of those grim shining eyes.

"Well, Dennis," Tom sighed, "I reckon I\'ll have ter shove you down thar an\' hold ye by the heels while yer pull one of \'em out!"

"I\'ll be doggoned ef yer do!" he remarked with emphasis.

Tom laughed. "You wuz afeared ye wouldn\'t git here in time ye know."

"Oh, I\'m in time all right!"

The hunter put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the warriors below.

"Waal, we\'ll try ter git a dog ter yank one of \'em out an\' then they\'ll all come. But I have my doubts. I don\'t believe that Godamighty ever yet built a dog that\'ll stick his nose in that hole. Hit takes three dogs ter kill one coon in a fair fight. Old Boney\'s the only pup I ever seed do it by hisself. But it\'s askin\' too much o\' him ter stick his nose in a place like that with three of \'em lookin\' right at him ready ter tear his eyes out. But they ain\'t nothin\' like tryin\'——"

He paused and looked at the old warrior of a hundred bloody fields, pointed at the bottom of the hole and in stern command shouted:

"Fetch \'em out, Bone!"

With a deep growl the faithful old soldier sprang to the front. With teeth shining in white gleaming rows he scrambled within a foot of the opening of the den, circled it twice, his eyes fixed on the flashing lights below. They followed his every move. He tried the stratagem of right and left flank movements, but the space was too narrow. He dashed straight toward the opening once with a loud angry cry, hoping to get the flash of a coward\'s back. He met............