I watched with anticipation of Pa. Ol’ Slewfoot suddenly stood baffled, with an uncertain look, and began swaying back forth. He then started to whimper, alike to a whining child. Both Rip and Julia backed off from the strange occurrence. It was the perfect shot for Pa. He swung the gun upon his shoulder and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, unless you count the harmless popping noise. Pa cocked the hammer again, and pulled the trigger once more. You could see the sweat pour down his forehead. A black gunpowder cloud stormed from the gun. With frustration and trembling hands, Pa still tried cocking his gun while Slewfoot continued his vigorous approach on the dogs. Fearlessly, Julia again went to Slewfoot’s flank and Rip tried clutching his hairy throat. Pa tried once more to fire his gun. It backfired, creating a sizzling sound, flinging Pa onto his back. I frantically ran to Pa, but he was already upon his feet within the mere seconds. His face was painted black with the ammunition powder. During the commotion, Ol’ Slewfoot shook free of Rip, whirled around to Julia and caught her in the chest with his claws. Julia gave a yelp of pain. Rip hurled himself into Slewfoot’s back hide, burying his teeth in the mounds of fur. I had screamed, “He’s killin’ Julia!” Pa ran desperately after them. He jammed his gun-barrel in Ol’ Slewfoot’s rib cage. Even while in pain, Julia had gripped Slewfoot’s black throat above. Ol’ Slewfoot snarled and turned to plunge into the creek’s deep waters. Both dogs kept their hold on the menace while Slewfoot swam madly to try a getaway. Only Julia’s head was visible above the water while Rip continued to ride in the back, holding on just as well. Ol’ Slewfoot swam across the creek and climbed up the side, as he quickly tried to escape into the dense thicket. Julia loosened her hold and dropped like a ragdoll to the earth. For a moment, Rip hung tight on Slewfoot, but he became confused between capturing his prey and assisting his friend. He jumped off Slewfoot and ran over to Julia. Pa called for them to heel, but Rip refused and simply wagged his tail. Pa tried his hunting horn, and in the distance, I saw Julia lift her head and drop it back down. Pa swam across the creek and back, carrying Julia all the way home. It took two months for her to fully heal, but she was immediately back on the next hunt, tracking her prey in silence. I was overcome with relief, another day to hunt Ol’ Slewfoot, another day out with Pa.
