Read this story about a man and a dog and answer the questions.
Where The Red Fern
Grows
Wilson Rawls
When I left my office that beautiful spring day, I had no idea what was
in store for me. To begin with, everything was too perfect for anything
unusual to happen. It was one of those days when a man feels good,
feels like speaking to his neighbor, is glad to live in a country like
ours, and proud of his government. You know what I mean, one of those
rare days when everything is right and nothing is wrong.
I was walking along whistling when I heard the dogfight. At first I
paid no attention to it. After all it wasn't anything to get excited
about, just another dogfight in a residential section. As the sound of
the fight grew nearer, I could tell there were quite a few dogs mixed
up in it.
They boiled out of an alley, turned, and headed straight toward me. Not
wanting to get bitten or run over, I moved over to the edge of the
sidewalk. I could see that all the dogs were fighting one. About
twenty-five feet from me they caught him and down he went. I felt sorry
for the unfortunate one. I knew if something wasn't done quickly the
sanitation department would have to pick up a dead dog.
I was trying to make up my mind to help when I got a surprise. Up out
of that snarling, growling mass reared an old redbone hound. I caught
my breath. I couldn't believe what I had seen. He fought his way
through the pack and backed up under the low branches of a hedge.
Growling and snarling, the other dogs formed a half-moon circle around
him. A big bird dog, bolder than the others, darted in and the hedge
shook as he tangled with the hound. He came out so fast he fell over
backwards. It was too much for him and he took off down the street,
squalling like a scaled cat. A big ugly cur tried his luck. He didn't
get off so easy. He sat down on his rear and let the world know that he
had been hurt. By this time, my fighting blood was boiling. It's hard
for a man to stand and watch an old hound fight against such odds,
especially if that man has memories in his heart like I had in mine. I
had seen the time when an old hound like that had given his life so
that I might live.
Taking off my coat, I waded in. My yelling and scolding didn't have
much effect, but the swinging coat did .The dogs scattered and left.
Down on my knees, I peered back under the hedge. The hound was still
mad. He growled at me and showed his teeth. I knew it wasn't his nature
to fight a man.
In a soft voice, I started talking to him. Come on, boy,
I said. It's all right. I'm your friend. Come on now. The fighting fire
slowly left his eyes. He bowed his head and his long, red tail started
thumping the ground. I kept coaxing. On his stomach, an inch at a time,
he came to me and laid his head in my hand.