"Hush, Chad," he said, and he took the boy inside and told him Jack was in
trouble. A Dillon sheep had been found dead on a hill-side. Daws Dillon had
come upon Jack leaping out of the pasture, and Jack had come home with his
muzzle bloody. Even with this overwhelming evidence, old Joel stanchly refused
to believe the dog was guilty and ordered old man Dillon off the place. A
neighbor had come over, then another, and an other, until old Joel got livid
with rage.

"That dawg mought eat a dead sheep but he never would kill a live one, and if
you kill him, by , you've got to kill me fust."

Now there is no more unneighborly or unchristian act for a farmer than to
harbor a sheep-killing dog. So the old Squire and the circuit-rider had come
over to show Joel the grievous error of his selfish, obstinate course, and, so
far, old Joel had refused to be shown. All of his sons sturdily upheld him and
little Melissa fiercely--the old mother and the school-master alone remaining
quiet and taking no part in the dissension.

"Have they got Jack?"

"No, Chad," said the school-master. "He's safe--tied up in the stable." Chad
started out, and no one followed but Melissa. A joyous bark that was almost
human came from the stable as Chad approached, for the dog must have known the
sound of his master's footsteps, and when Chad drew open the door, Jack sprang
the length of his tether to meet him and was jerked to his back. Again and
again he sprang, barking, as though beside himself, while Chad stood at the
door, looking sorrowfully at him.

"Down, Jack!" he said sternly, and Jack dropped obediently, looking straight
at his master with honest eyes and whimpering like a child.