Free Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls

catch one and I so need the skin to train my pups."
        On the way to my third trap I had to walk through a thick stand of wild cane. It was tough going and my pups started whimpering. I stopped and picked them up.
        "We'll be out of this in a few minutes," I said, "and then you'll be all right."
        I came plowing out of the matted mass and was right on the trap before I realized it. I was met by a loud squall. I was so surprised I dropped the pups. There he was, my first coon.
        He was humped up on the sycamore log, growling and showing his teeth. He kept jerking his front paw, which was jammed deep in the hole I had bored. He was trapped by his own curiosity.
        I couldn't move and I felt like my wind had been cut off. I kept hearing a noise but couldn't make out what it was. The movement of the boy pup shook me from my trance. The unidentified sound was his bawling. He was trying to climb up on the log and get to the coon.
        I yelled at him and darted in to get hold of his collar. On seeing my movement, the coon let out another squall. It scared me half to death. I froze in my tracks and started yelling again at my pup.
        The girl pup worked around behind the coon and climbed up on the log. I screamed at her. She paid no attention to me.
        Digging his sharp little claws in the bark, the boy pup made it to the top. He didn't hesitate. Straight down that sycamore log he charged. With teeth bared, the coon waited. When my pup was about two feet from him, he made a lunge. The coon just seemed to pull my pup up under his stomach and went to work with tooth and claw.
        The girl pup saved him. Like a cat in a corn crib, she sneaked in from behind and sank her needlesharp teeth in the coon's back.
        It was too much for Old Ringy. He turned the boy pup loose, turned around, and slapped her clear off the log. She came running to me, yelping her head off. I grabbed her up in my arms and looked for the boy pup. When the coon had turned him loose, he too had fallen off the log. He was trying to get back to the coon. I darted in and grabbed him by the hind leg.
        With a pup under each arm and running as fast as I could, I lit out for the house. Coming out of the bottoms into a fresh-plowed field I set my pups down so I could get a little more speed. I started yelling as soon as I came in sight of the house.
        Mama came flying out with my sisters right behind her. Papa was out by the barn harnessing his team. Mama yelled something to him about a snake. He dropped the harness, jumped over the rail fence, and in a long lope started for me.
        Mama reached me first. She grabbed me and shouted, "Where did it bite you?"
        "Bite me?" I said. "Why Mama, I'm not bit. I've got him, Mama. I've got him."
        "Got what?" Mama asked.
        "A big coon," I said. "The biggest one in the river bottoms. He's this big, Mama." I made a circle with my arms as big as a twenty-gallon keg.
        Mama just groaned way down deep and covered her face with her hands. Some big tears squeezed out between her fingers. Almost in a whisper, I heard her say, "Thank God; I thought you were snake-bitten."
       My sisters, seeing Mama crying, puckered up and started bawling.
        "He needs a whipping," the oldest one said, "that's what he needs, scaring Mama that way."
        Something busted loose inside me and I cried a little, too.
        "I didn't mean to scare Mama," I sniffed. "I just wanted everyone to know I caught a coon."
        Up until this time Papa hadn't said a word. He just stood looking on.
        "Here now," he said, "let's have none of this crying. He didn't mean to scare anyone."
        Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he stepped over to Mama, put his arm around her, and started drying her eyes.
        Mama poked her head around him and glared at me. "Billy Colman," she shouted, "if you ever scare me like that again, I'll take