e and more dangerous
a dog is the more bitterly his owner resents any attack upon him. Then,
even hungrier looking men with keen eyes and alert noses wandered near,
with inquiry in every motion. He would have liked to take Shorty
into his confidence, but he feared that the ravenous appetite of
convalescence would prove too much for that gentleman's continence.

He kept thinking about it while engaged in what he called "doin' up the
chores," that is, making Si and Shorty comfortable for the day, before
he lay down to take a much-needed rest. He had never been so puzzled in
all his life. He thought of burying them in the ground, but dismissed
that because he would be seen digging the hole and putting them in, and
if he should escape observation, the dogs would be pretty certain to
nose them out and dig them up. Sinking them in the creek suggested
itself, but had to be dismissed for various reasons, one being fear that
the ravenous catfish would devour them.

"If I only had a balloon," he murmured to himself, "I might send 'em up
in that. That's the only safe way I kin think of. Yes, there's another
way. I've intended to put a stone foundation under that crib, and daub
it well, so's to stop the drafts. It orter be done, but it's a hard
day's work, even with help, and I'm mortal tired. But I s'pose it's the
only way, and I've got to put in stones so big that a dog can't pull 'em
out."

He secured a couple of negroes, at prices which would have paid for
highly-skilled labor in Indiana, to roll up enough large stones to fill
in the space under the crib, and then he filled all the crevices with
smaller ones, and daubed over the whole with clay.

"There," he said, as he washed the clay from his hands, "I think them
chickens are safe for to-night from the dogs, and probably from the men.
Think of all that trouble for four footy chickens not worth more'n four
bits in Injianny. They're as much bother as a drove o' steer'd be. I
think I kin now lay down and take a wink o' sleep."

He was soon sleeping as soundly as only a thoroughly-tired man can,
and would have slept no one knows how long, had not Shorty succeeded in
waking him towards morning, after a shaking which exhausted the latter's
strength.

"Wake up, Mister Klegg," said Shorty; "it must 've bin rainin' dogs, and
they're tryin' to tear the shanty down."

The Deacon rubbed his eyes and hastened a moment to the clamor outside.
It seemed as if there were a thousand cu