The Dillons crowded angrily about him, gesticulating and threatening, while
he told his story. But nothing could be done--nothing. They did not know that
Chad was up in the woods or they would have gone in search of him--knowing
that when they found him they would find Jack--but to look for Jack now would
be like searching for a needle in a hay-stack. There was nothing to do, then,
but to wait for Jack to come home, which he would surely do--to get to
Chad--and it was while old Joel was promising that the dog should be
surrendered to the Sheriff that little Tad Dillon gave an excited shriek.

"Look up thar!"

And up there at the edge of the wood was Chad standing and, at his feet, Jack
sitting on his haunches, with his tongue out and looking as though nothing
had happened or could ever happen to Chad or to him.

"Come up hyeh," shouted Chad.

"You come down hyeh," shouted the Sheriff, angrily. So Chad came down, with
Jack trotting after him. Chad had cut off the rawhide string, but the Sheriff
caught Jack by the nape of the neck.

"You won't git away from me agin, I reckon."

"Well, I reckon you ain't goin' to shoot him," said Chad. "Leggo that dawg."

"Don't be a fool, Jim," said old Joel. "The dawg ain't goin' to leave the
boy." The Sheriff let go.

"Come on up hyeh," said Chad. "I got somethin' to show ye."