Put it across his neck and then I'll b'ar down on one end an' you
on the other an' with a twist Jim kin break his neck. Thar, we air
gittin' him." At the proper moment Jim gave the dog an upward twist and
there was a snap. They heard his neck break.
"It's all right," said Old Jasper. "Why, you women folks mustn't take on
now. Thar are two times when you mustn't take on--when thar's danger and
when thar ain't."
"I know he's pizened!" Margaret cried.
"Well, now, don't bet no money on that fur you'll lose it. He didn't
tech me."
"Let us thank the Lord," said Jim.
"All right," Jasper replied; "but thar ain't no hurry; the dog's dead."
CHAPTER VII.
NOT SO FAR OUT OF THE WORLD.
Men with guns came down the road, shouting "mad dog." The cry was taken
up and it echoed among the hills. In barbaric Europe, when every village
was a principality unto itself, the cry at midnight, summoning men from
their beds to butcher or be butchered, could not have been more
startling than the noon-tide cry of "mad dog" in rural Tennessee.
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