d not long stand those
honest eyes.

"No," he said, fiercely--"no, little doggie, no--no!" And Chad dropped
on his knees and took Jack in his arms and hugged him to his breast.

CHAPTER 13.

ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE

By degrees the whole story was told Chad that night. Now and then the
Turners would ask him about his stay in the Bluegrass, but the boy
would answer as briefly as possible and come back to Jack. Before going
to bed, Chad said he would bring Jack into the house:

"Somebody might pizen him," he explained, and when he came back, he
startled the circle about the fire:

"Whar's Whizzer?" he asked, sharply. "Who's seen Whizzer?"

Then it developed that no one had seen the Dillon dog--since the day
before the sheep was found dead near a ravine at the foot of the
mountain in a back pasture. Late that afternoon Melissa had found
Whizzer in that very pasture when she was driving old Betsy, the
brindle, home at milking-time. Since then, no one of the Turners had
seen the Dillon dog. That, however, did not prove that Whizzer was not
at home. And yet,

"I'd like to know whar Whizzer is now!" said Chad, and, after, at old
Joel's command, he had tied Jack to a bedpost--an outrage that puzzled
the dog sorely--the boy threshed his bed for an hour--trying to think
out a defence for Jack and wondering if Whizzer might not have been
concerned in the death of the sheep.

It is hardly possible that what happened, next day, could happen
anywhere except among simple people of the hills. Briefly, the old
Squire and the circuit-rider had brought old Joel to the point of
saying, the night before, that he would give Jack up to be killed, if
he could be proven guilty. But the old hunter cried with an oath:

"You've got to prove him guilty." And thereupon the Squire said he
would give Jack every chance that he would give a man--HE WOULD TRY
HIM; each side could bring in witnesses; old Joel could have a lawyer
if he wished, and Jack's case would go before a jury. If pronounced
innocent, Jack should go free: if guilty--then the dog should be handed
over to the sheriff, to be shot at sundown. Joel agreed.

It was a strange procession that left the gate of the Turner cabin next
morning. Old Joel led the way, mounted, with "ole Sal," his rifle,
across his saddle-bow. Behind him came Mother Turner and Melissa on
foot and Chad with his rifle over his left shoulder, and leading Jack
by a string with his right hand. Behind them