It was a pleasant afternoon when Mr Chit pulled up to the house. I had spent the morning splitting and stacking wood and had planned on drowning a worm or two that afternoon. Ho Lee jumped out of his pickup, climbed up the steps and sat down beside me on the deck. “Floyd,” he says, “with spring gobbler season fast approaching I thought we should go and scout out some new hunting territory.”
Not really wanting to, but not wanting to disappoint Ho Lee, I said, “What the heck, why not!”
We got into his truck and headed a couple miles up the road to the George Washington National Forest. After pulling into the parking area on Indian Graves Ridge, we decided not to follow the established trail but headed through the trees and soon found ourselves on a ridge neither of us had ever been on before.
As we started to descend into the hollow, we came upon a six-foot wide hole in the ground. As this area of Virginia is known for all its caverns, we thought it must be the opening for a vertical air shaft for a limestone cavern. Curious about the depth of the hole, I picked up a nearby rock and tossed it into the opening. We listened for the rock to hit bottom, but heard nothing.
Ho Lee looked around and picked up a rock even bigger than the one I had tossed into the abyss.
We listened for what seemed to be an eternity, and again heard nothing. We found an old railroad tie nearby, picked it up, drug it to the edge of the hole and hurled it down. Seconds later a dog came running up between us and jumped straight into the hole. We looked at each other in bewilderment, not believing what we had just seen. I said, “Ho Lee Chit, did you just see what I seen?”
“If you seen a dog run up and jump into the hole, “Ho Lee said, “then I seen it too. Why would a dog do such a thing?”
Standing there trying to figure things out, we didn’t hear a young boy come up to us. We both kind of jumped when he said, “Hey guys, did you see a dog around here?” We told him how we had seen a dog come running up and jump into the hole.
The young boy laughed and said, “That couldn’t have been my dog. Mine was tied to a railroad tie!”
I looked over at Mr. Chit and could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing I was, “Oh, but it was.”
Keep your fork