pert, an' Bull is purty cocky, an' when I gets close enough, I hears
Bull say:

"'Hello, d'ye want t' fight?'

"'Fight, no,' says one of th' hounds. 'We're goin' to chase a fox. D'ye
want t' go?'

"'Sure,' says Bull.

"An' with that th' whole pack o' 'em leaps over a fence, an' beats it
off toward th' hills.

"Well, Bull don't even hesitate. He leaps at that there rail fence an'
lands against it with his head, plunk--an' caroms back into th' road. He
leaps again, an' comes back th' same way, but at th' third jump he goes
through a wider place in th' rails, an' lands on th' other side o' the
fence, on that there same head. Then he scrambles to his feet, an'
starts off after them hounds.

"Now, you all know that a bulldog ain't built for speed, he's built for
war. In th' first place, his fore legs is so far apart they's almost
strangers, an' his hind legs is too short, an' th' rest of him's too
heavy for all of 'em. But Bull keeps goin', industr'ous. An' he goes so
fast that 'bout every thirty yards he stumbles, an' falls on his face,
an' his head plows up large chunks of Montana soil.

"By this time them wolf-fox-hounds has flown into them hills, they
touchin' th' ground 'bout every hunderd feet. An' Bull ain't one to let
no hounds see him quit, an' he plows along, till at last he gets t' them