With a quick side leap the coon struck the
dog's head a blow with his claw that split his ear for three inches as
cleanly and evenly as if a surgeon's knife had been used.
With a low growl of rage and pain, Boney wheeled and repeated his
assault with the same results for the other ear. He turned in silence
and deliberately crept toward his foe. There would be no chance for a
side blow. He wouldn't plunge or spring. He might get another bloody
gash, but he wouldn't miss again.
This time he found the body, they closed and rolled over and over in
close blood-stained grip. For the first time Tom's face showed doubts,
and he called to Dennis:
"Choke off two dogs from that fust coon an' throw 'em in here!"
They came in a moment and clinched with Boney's enemy. The charge of two
new troopers drove the coon to desperation. The sharp claws flew like
lightning. The new dogs ran back into the water with howls of pain and
scrambled up the bank to their old job.
Boney paid no attention either to the unexpected assault of his friends
or their ignoble desertion. Every ounce of his dog-manhood was up now.
It was a battle to the death and he had no wish to live if he couldn't
whip any coon that ever made a track in his path.
The Boy's pride was roused now and the fighting instinct that slumbers
in every human soul flashed through his excited eyes.
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