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 just now was irrelevant, but I tell you, Squire, I know a
sheep-killin' dawg, and jes' as I know Jack AIN'T, I know the Dillon dawg
naturely is, and I tell you, if the Dillons' dawg killed that sheep and they
could put it on Jack--they'd do it. They'd do it--Squire, an' I tell you,