only half a mile, where I throwed down my squirrel and birds!
Two minutes more would bring him afore me;--yes, one,--for on he
bounded and yelled more dreadful than ever; and Bose cuddled closer to
my feet, and brustled up his hair all over; showed me his sharp teeth
were in, and give a look that said, 'Keep your gun ready, and I'll nab
him as quick as you fire.'

"Them last yells fairly crazed me from top to toe, with courage; and
now he jumped in full sight--over logs and through bushes, with head
down, snuffing close on my track! Leap-ety-leap, he bounced to the
skin and turkey; and O, such fiery eyes as then glared and blazed! and
such yells as he give! Then up started the hair on his ridgy back, and
thrash, thrash, to and fro, like a mad cat's, throbbed his tail! and he
snuffed for my track again. I raised my old gun, and partly getting
the scent, he turned his head upwards, and his eyes flashed fire in my
face! But afore he could spring on me, I plumped a charge into his
face and eyes, and dropped him, as Aunt Polly did the tory. Then Bose
made a lunge on the critter; but he warn't dead yet, and in they
grappled for life or death! Then dog's hair and painter's hair flew
like flax in the brake, I tell you. And then there was growling and
craunching, I reckon. I see Bose was going to be worsted, and I closed
in to give him a lift. My sleeves were scratched off in a jiffy, and
the skin striddled from my arms. And such flashes of fire from them
blazing eyes, and such a growl as I got for my pains! I jumped back
behind a tree; the painter jumped after me, and just missed my legs,
tearing away my old leather breeches from the knees, where I patched
'em with a stocking the day afore. Then Bose sprung on the painter,
and I closed in again; and just as the beast made for a bigger bite of
me, as luck would have it, I stuck my old butcher-knife through his
heart, and he fell down dead on my feet.

"When that was done, and I was safe, I felt pale, you may depend! I
set down, and poor Bose laid his bloody head in my lap, and licked my
hands, and whined for joy; and I was so thankful to the old fellow, I
kissed him, I did, and cried like a baby.

"But it was getting dark, and more painters might come, or a pack of
howling wolves be on me; so taking only my turkey and gun, I drawed a
bee line homeward. I went about a mile, and heard wolves howl a good
ways off; but now I knew I was pretty near home, and my fears