"You can't axe that question," said the Squire. "Hit's er-er-irrelevant."
Daws came next. When he reached the fence upon the hill-side he could see the sheep lying still on the ground. As he was climbing over, the Turner dog jumped the fence and Daws saw blood on his muzzle.
"How close was you to him?" asked the Squire.
"'Bout twenty feet," said Daws.
"Humph!" said old Joel.
"Whar was Whizzer?" Again the old Squire glared down at Chad.
"Don't you axe that question again, boy. Didn't I tell you hit was irrelevant?"
"What's irrelevant?" the boy asked, bluntly.
The Squire hesitated. "Why—why, hit ain't got nothin' to do with the case."
"Hit ain't?" shouted Chad.