Halloween tale

Dear Editor,

My true Halloween story:

As a kid of 12 years old, I ran a trapline on the Frenchman and Stinking Water. Some 40 miles over, give or take.

Near this time of year, we had already had a couple of snows. So, trekking home, my 22-cal. rifle was jammed and my dog followed as he always did.

As I cut across the pasture, maybe a half-mile from our farm house, I heard it. A low growl.

First thinking my dog had spotted something, but he was looking in a brush thicket maybe 40 yards away.

He was not growling, though you could hear it plain as day. After my eyes searched the bushes, I looked back at my dog.

Now this mid-sized mutt had no fear and proved it, fighting any dog that entered line of sight. But he was on the dead run home, leaving me standing in the snow with a jammed gun.

The growl seemed louder and my heart beat fast as I backed away, heading home. About 100 yards, no more growl could be heard. The next day, with unjammed rifle, I went back and searched the area, including a quarter-mile circle looking for tracks in the snow.

Only mine and my dog's tracks showed in the snow!

William D. Donze,

McCook