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I could see the man who had shot John because his back was pressed against the fence. He tried to put his arms over his throat and head to protect himself but there were too many of them. Smitty drove his hard muzzle though the man's hands and buried sharp teeth in his throat. I stood less than ten feet away and heard his screams turn into a gurgle as the enraged animal tore the life from him.

I looked over and saw Radio standing on the other side of the opening in the fence with his arms at his side, his expression showing shock and disbelief. John Jr. was stooped over his dad crying. I ran over to the big man. He had been able to pull himself up to a sitting position. There was a bloody, ugly mess around his left shoulder.

"Unc, we gotta get these kids outa here. These animals don't know who their friends are." I looked around and saw the gathering pack beginning to circle us and saw he was right. I picked up a mud covered piece of 2 x 4 about three feet long and with the boys helping to support Big John, we started moving towards the bayou.

Step by step we fought our way across the field. As we got closer to the side of the bayou, I started yelling for Joey. I was worried sick some of these crazy animals might have gotten to him. Twice, I had to kick and bat animals who had come flying out of the mob to bite one of the boys. All three of us had scores of shallow slashes and bites by the time we got to the edge of the bayou.