The fight had scarcely begun when one of the remaining coons leaped out of the den. Tom's watchful eye had seen him. He pulled three dogs from the first battle group and hurled them on the new fighter. He had scarcely started this struggle when the third sprang to the top of the earthen breastwork, surveyed the field and with sullen deliberation, trotted to the water's edge, jumped in and, placing two paws on a swaying limb, dared any dog to come. Here was work for the veteran! Boney was the only dog in the pack who would dare accept that challenge. Tom choked him off the first coon, pulled him to the bank and showed him his enemy in the water. He looked just a moment at the snarling, daring mouth and made the plunge. The boy had followed the dog and watched with bated breath. He circled the coon twice, swimming in swift graceful curves. But his enemy was too shrewd. A flank movement was impossible. The coon's fierce mouth was squarely facing him at every turn and the dog plunged straight on his foe. To his horror the Boy saw the fangs sink into his friend's head, four sets of sharp claws circle his neck, a tense grey ball of fur hanging its dead weight below. The water ran red for a moment as both slowly sank to the bottom. Eyes wide with anguish he heard his father cry: "By the Lord, he'll kill that dog shore--he's a goner!" "No, he won't neither!" the Boy shouted, leaping into the water where he saw them go down. Before his father could warn him of the danger his head disappeared in the deep still eddy. "Look out for us, Dennis, with a pole I'm goin' ter dive fer 'em!" In a moment they came to the surface, the man holding the Boy, the Boy grasping his dog, the coon fastened to the dog's head. "Well, don't that beat the devil!" Tom laughed, as he carried them to a little rocky island in the middle of the creek. The Boy intent on saving his dog had held his breath and was not even strangled. The dog had buried his nose in the coon's throat and was chewing and choking with savage determination. Tom stood over them now on the little island with its smooth stone-paved battle arena ringed with the music of laughing waters. He threw both hands above his shaggy head and yelled himself hoarse--the wild cry of the hunter's soul in delirious joy. "_Yaaaiih! Yaaaiiih!_" A moment's pause, and then the low snarl and growl and clash of tooth and claw! Again the hunter's gnarled hands flew over his head. "_Yaaaiih! Yaaaaiiih! Yaaiih! Yaaaaiiiihhh!!_" On the shore Dennis stood first over one group of swirling, rolling, snarling brutes, and then over the other, yelling and cheering. The coon on the island suddenly broke his assailant's death-like grip, and, with a quick leap, reached the water. Boney was on him in a moment and down they went beneath the surface again. The Boy sprang to the rescue. His father brushed him roughly aside: "Keep out! I'll git 'em!"