"'We will not,' says I. 'I ain't goin' to do no Simon Legree
stunts. It ain't man's size. Bein' English, you don't count, but
I'm growed up.'

"Nothin' would do him but those Uncle Tom's Cabin dogs, however,
and he had 'em imported clean from Berkshire or Sibeery or
thereabouts, four of 'em, great, big, blue ones. They was as
handsome and imposin' as a set of solid-gold teeth, but somehow
they didn't seem to savvy our play none. One day the cook rolled a
rain bar'l down-hill from the kitchen, and when them blooded
critters saw it comin' they throwed down their tails and tore out
like rabbits. After that I couldn't see no good in 'em with a spy-
glass.

"'They 'ain't got no grit. What makes you think they can fight?' I
asked one day.

"'Fight?' says H'Anglish. 'My deah man, they're full-blooded. Cost
seventy pun each. They're dreadful creatures when they're roused--
they'll tear a wolf to pieces like a rag--kill bears--anything.
Oh! Rully, perfectly dreadful!'

"Well, it wasn't a week later that he went over to the east line
with me to mend a barb wire. I had my pliers and a hatchet and
some staples. About a mile from the house we jumped up a little
brown bear that scampered off when he seen us, but bein' agin' a
bluff where he couldn't get away, he climbed a cotton-wood.
H'Anglish was simply frothin' with excitement.