Old Joel shouted and swore; Dolph shouted and swore and Rube shouted and swore.  Old Dillon smiled grimly, Daws and little Tad shouted with derisive laughter, and the big twins grinned.  The mother came to the door, broom in hand, and, with a frowning face, watched the sheep splash through the water and into the woods across the river.  Little Melissa looked frightened.  Whizzer, losing his head, had run down after the sheep, barking and hastening their flight, until called back with a mighty curse from old Joel, while Jack sat on his haunches looking at Chad and waiting for orders.

“Goddlemighty!” said Joel, “how air we goin’ to git them sheep back?” Up and up rose the bleating and baaing, for Beelzebub, like the prince of devils that he was, seemed bent on making all the mischief possible.

“How air we goin’ to git ’em back?”

Chad nodded then, and Jack with an eager yelp made for the river—­Whizzer at his heels.  Again old Joel yelled furiously, as did Dolph and Rube, and Whizzer stopped and turned back with a drooping tail, but Jack plunged in.  He knew but one voice behind him and Chad’s was not in the chorus.

“Call yo’ dawg back, boy,” said Joel, sternly, and Chad opened his lips with anything but a call for Jack to come back—­it was instead a fine high yell of encouragement and old Joel was speechless.

“That dawg’ll kill them sheep,” said Daws Dillon aloud.

Joel’s face was red and his eyes rolled.

“Call that damned feist back, I tell ye,” he shouted at last.  “Hyeh, Rube, git my gun, git my gun!”

Rube started for the house, but Chad laughed.  Jack had reached the other bank now, and was flashing like a ball of gray light through the weeds and up into the woods; and Chad slipped down the bank and into the river, hieing him on excitedly.

Joel was beside himself and he, too, lumbered down to the river, followed by Dolph, while the Dillons roared from the road.

“Boy!” he roared.  “Eh, boy, eh! what’s his name, Dolph?  Call him back, Dolph, call the little devil back.  If I don’t wear him out with a hickory; holler fer ’em, damn ’em!  Heh-o-oo-ee!” The old hunter’s bellow rang through the woods like a dinner-horn.  Dolph was shouting, too, but Jack and Chad seemed to have gone stone-deaf; and Rube, who had run down with the gun, started with an oath into the river himself, but Joel halted him.

“Hol’on, hol’on!” he said, listening.  “By the eternal, he’s a-roundin’ ’em up!” The sheep were evidently much scattered, to judge from the bleating, but here, there, and everywhere, they could hear Jack’s bark, while Chad seemed to have stopped in the woods and, from one place, was shouting orders to his dog.  Plainly, Jack was no sheep-killer and by and by Dolph and Rube left off shouting, and old Joel’s face became placid and all of them from swearing helplessly fell to waiting quietly.  Soon the bleating became less and less, and began to concentrate on the mountain-side.  Not far below, they could hear Chad: