eagerly down the hill and halted in a half circle about Jack and Chad; so that
it looked an uneven conflict, indeed, for the two waifs from over Pine
Mountain.

The strange dog was game and wasted no time. With a bound he caught Jack by
the throat, tossed him several feet away, and sprang for him again. Jack
seemed helpless against such strength and fury, but Chad's face was as placid
as though it had been Jack who was playing the winning game.

Jack himself seemed little disturbed; he took his punishment without an outcry
of rage or pain. You would have thought he had quietly come to the conclusion
that all he could hope to do was to stand the strain until his opponent had
worn himself out. But that was not Jack's game, and Chad knew it. The tall boy
was chuckling, and his brother of Chad's age was bent almost double with
delight.

"Kill my dawg, will he?" he cried, shrilly.

"Oh, Lawdy!" groaned the tall one.

Jack was much bitten and chewed by this time, and, while his pluck and purpose
seemed unchanged, Chad had risen to his feet and was beginning to look
anxious. The three silent spectators behind pressed forward and, for the first
time, one of these--the tallest of the group--spoke:

"Take yo' dawg off, Daws Dillon," he said, with quiet authority; but Daws
shook his head, and the little brother looked indignant.

"He said he'd kill him," said Daws, tauntingly.