t?" the boy asked, bluntly.

The Squire hesitated. "Why--why, hit ain't got nothin' to do with the
case."

"Hit ain't?" shouted Chad.

"Joel," said the Squire, testily, "ef you don't keep that boy still,
I'll fine him fer contempt o' court."

Joel laughed, but he put his heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. Little
Tad Dillon and Nance and the Dillon mother had all seen Jack running
down the road. There was no doubt but that it was the Turner dog. And
with this clear case against poor Jack, the Dillons rested. And what
else could the Turners do but establish Jack's character and put in a
plea of mercy--a useless plea, old Joel knew--for a first offence? Jack
was the best dog old Joel had ever known, and the old man told
wonderful tales of the dog's intelligence and kindness and how one
night Jack had guarded a stray lamb that had broken its leg--until
daybreak--and he had been led to the dog and the sheep by Jack's
barking for help. The Turner boys confirmed this story, though it was
received with incredulity.

How could a dog that would guard one lone helpless lamb all night long
take the life of another?

There was no witness that had aught but kind words to say of the dog or
aught but wonder that he should have done this thing--even back to the
cattle-dealer who had given him to Chad. For at that time the dealer
said--so testified Chad, no objection being raised to hearsay
evidence--that Jack was the best dog he ever knew. That was all the
Turners or anybody could do or say, and the old Squire was about to
turn the case over to the jury when Chad rose:

"Squire," he said and his voice trembled, "Jack's my dog. I lived with
him night an' day for 'bout three years an' I want to axe some
questions."

He turned to Daws:

"I want to axe you ef thar was any blood around that sheep."

"Thar was a great big pool o' blood," said Daws, indignantly. Chad
looked at the Squire.

"Well, a sheep-killin' dog don't leave no great big pool o' blood,
Squire, with the FUST one he kills! He SUCKS it!" Several men nodded
their heads.

"Squire! The fust time I come over these mountains, the fust people I
seed was these Dillons--an' Whizzer. They sicked Whizzer on Jack hyeh
and Jack whooped him. Then Tad thar jumped me and I whooped him." (The
Turner boys were nodding confirmation.) "Sence that time they've hated
Jack an' they've hated me and they hate the Turners partly fer takin'
keer o' me. Now you said somethin' I axed jus