“Bow! wow! wow!” ses he. Then he’d smell agin, and try to git up to the bag.
“Git out!” ses I, very low, for fear they would hear me.
“Bow! wow! wow!” ses he.
“Be gone! you ’bominable fool,” ses I, and I felt all over in spots, for I ’spected every minit he’d nip me, and what made it worse, I didn’t know whar ’bouts he’d take hold.
“Bow! wow! wow!”
Then I tried coaxin’:
“Come here, good feller,” ses I, and whistled a little to him, but it wasn’t no use. Thar he stood and kep up his eternal whinin’ and barkin’, all night. I couldn’t tell when daylight was breakin’, only by the chickens crowin’, and I was monstrous glad to hear ’em, for if I’d had to stay thar one hour more, I don’t b’lieve I’d ever got out of that bag alive.
Old Miss Stallins come out fust, and as soon as she saw the bag, ses she:
“What upon yeath has Joseph went and put in that bag for Mary? I’ll lay it’s a yearlin’ or some live animal, or Bruin wouldn’t bark at it so.”
She went in to call the galls, and I sot thar, shiverin’ all over so I couldn’t hardly speak if I tried to—but I didn’t say nothin’. Bimeby they all come runnin’ out.