Another said, “Mother Hanssen reckon she hit him with one of her shots; leastways there was blood under that wall.”
Another said, “He took to the water all right, but these dogs don’t seem to get the scent any.”
Another said, “Well, he must have gone upstream, because if he’d gone downstream, they would have got him.”
Another said, “He can’t have much breath left in him, the clip he has been going. Like as not he’s got in among these rocks here; maybe he’s listening all the time we’re talking.”
Another said, “The hell he ain’t got much breath! He goes over the darned ground like a darned cyclone.”
Another said, “Come, Peppy; come, Toto; I’ll just take this couple of dogs up along this further bank, and you get on upstream and see if we can’t pick up where he’s landed.”
A voice came from amongst the bushes: “Say, boys, did you get him yet?”
They said, “No, we ain’t got him yet, but we guess we’re going to get him.”
“I guess I’m going to get him too,” the voice said. “He come into my room, when I was having a lay down, and sneaked my hat right off of my pillow.”
“Well, come on,” said another, “and we’ll get him and the hat.”