Читать книгу Camping in the Winter Woods: Adventures of Two Boys in the Maine Woods онлайн

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“He’s found one!” cried Ben.

“Yep, there’s been one here, sure,” declared Bill, stooping and releasing Moze.

The hound instantly dashed away into the night, uttering a series of short, excited yelps.

The boys were for chasing after him, but were laughingly restrained and told to remain where they were until the coon was treed. The hunters stood clustered expectantly about the lantern, while every few moments the voice of Moze echoed through the woods and gave warning that he was hot on the trail.

Then farther away they heard his quick, snappy bark, and Bill said the coon had been treed. At a rapid pace he led the way down a steep ravine, across a rock-strewn gully, and up a rough hillside. Panting and excited, the boys raced along behind him. They seemed heedless of the sharp, stinging blows from branches which snapped in their faces, the scratching grasp of thorny bushes which tore their hands, or the strong, entangling grip of low, sprawling vines which wound about their feet.

At last they came out into more open country beneath a great grove of evergreens. The dog’s impatient yelps sounded from a short distance in advance of them. Shouting encouragement, Bill hastened on toward where they heard the hound. When they got there Moze was jumping about and barking excitedly at the foot of a giant, lightning-killed pine whose trunk extended high up into the blackness.