“Begone!” said Chad, sharply, but the dog would not begone; he still came on as though bent on a fight.

“Call yo’ dog off,” Chad called aloud.  “My dog’ll kill him.  You better call him off,” he called again, in some concern, but the tall boy in front laughed scornfully.

“Let’s see him,” he said, and the small one laughed, too.

Chad’s eyes flashed—­no boy can stand an insult to his dog—­and the curves of his open lips snapped together in a straight red line.  “All right,” he said, placidly, and, being tired, he dropped back on a stone by the wayside to await results.  The very tone of his voice struck all shackles of restraint from Jack, who, with a springy trot, went forward slowly, as though he were making up a definite plan of action; for Jack had a fighting way of his own, which Chad knew.

“Sick him, Whizzer!” shouted the tall boy, and the group of five hurried 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.

“Yo’ dawg’s bigger and hit ain’t fair,” said the other again and, seeing Chad’s worried look, he pressed suddenly forward; but Chad had begun to smile, and was sitting down on his stone again.  Jack had leaped this time, with his first growl during the fight, and Whizzer gave a sharp cry of surprise and pain.  Jack had caught him by the throat, close behind the jaws, and the big dog shook and growled and shook again.  Sometimes Jack was lifted quite from the ground, but he seemed clamped to his enemy to stay.  Indeed he shut his eyes, finally, and seemed to go quite to sleep.  The