He would not stay, however, to be ignominiously beaten, for Grinnell had turned away, and was looking about the ground as if in search of a thick stick. He accounted himself no craven, thus numerically at a disadvantage, to turn shortly about, take his way down the rocky slope, cross the footbridge, jerk the little girl by one hand and lead her whimpering off, while the round-eyed Grinnell baby stared gravely after her with inconceivable emotions. These presently resulted in rendering her cross; she whined a little and rubbed her eyes, and, smarting from her own ill-treatment of them, gave a sharp yelp of dismay. The old dog arose and went and sat close by her, eying her solemnly and wagging his tail, as if begging her to observe how content he was. His dignity was somewhat impaired by sudden abrupt snaps at flies, which caused her to wink, stare, and be silent in astonishment. “Waal, Job Grinnell,” exclaimed Augusta, as her husband came back and took the perforated gourd from her hand--for she had been skimming the sorghum in his absence--“ye air the longest-tongued man, ter be so short-legged, I ever see!” He looked a trifle discomfited. He had deported himself with unwonted decision, conscious that Augusta was looking on, and in truth somewhat supported by the expectation of her approval. “What ails ye ter say words ye can't abide by--ye 'low ye 'pear so graceful on the back track?” she asked. He bent over the sorghum, silently skimming. His composure was somewhat ruffled, and in throwing away the scum his gesture was of negligent and discursive aim; the boiling fluid bespattered the foot of one of the omnipresent dogs, whose shrieks rent the sky and whose activity on three legs amazed the earth. He ran yelping to Mrs. Grinnell, nearly overturning her in his turbulent demand for sympathy; then scampered across to the boys, who readily enough stopped their work to examine the wounded member and condole with its wheezing proprietor. “What ye mean, A'gusta?” Grinnell said at length. “Kase I 'lowed I'd cut thar ears? I ain't foolin', Kem meddlin' about remarkin' on our chill'n agin, I'll show 'em.” Augusta looked at him in exasperation. “I ain't keerin' ef all the Purdees war deef,” she remarked, inhumanly, “but what war them words ye sent fur a message ter Purdee?--'bout pridin' on what ain't theirn.” Grinnell in his turn looked at her--but dubiously, However much a man is under the domination of his wife, he is seldom wholly frank. It is in this wise that his individuality is preserved to him. “I war jes wantin' ter know ef them words war on the rocks,” he said with a disingenuousness worthy of a higher culture. She received this with distrust. “I kin tell ye now--they ain't,” she said, discriminatingly; “Pur-dee's words don't sound like _them_.” “Waal, now, what's the differ?” he demanded, with an indignation natural enough to aspiring humanity detecting a slur upon one's literary style.