himself up from the uneven ground where he had fallen, the beast
had disappeared around the bowlder. The bag had fallen, and had
broken open, and some of the meal was spilled on the ground. The
girl, flushed and angry, stood above it.

"Look thar, now," she said. "See whut you've done. Why'n't ye
call that dog off?"

"I couldn't," said Clayton, politely. " He wouldn't come. I'm sorry,
very sorry."

"Can't ye manage yer own dog?" she asked, half contemptuously.

"Not always."

"Then ye oughter leave him to home, and not let him go round
a-skeerin' folks' beastes." With a little gesture of indignation she
stooped and began scooping up the meal in her hand.

"Let me help you," said Clayton. The girl looked up in surprise.

You go 'way," she said.

But Clayton stayed, watching her helplessly. He wanted to carry
the bag for her, but she swung it to her shoulder, and moved away.
He followed her around the bowlder, where his late enemy was
browsing peacefully on sassafras-bushes.

"You stay thar now," said the girl, " and keep that dog back."