on," said Jerry, "for their next winter's meat was in that pen—a sow and five plump little porkers.
"'Oh, Aunty Sally,' cries one of the bigger boys. 'What shall we do? What'll father say when he comes back and finds the pigs killed?'
"Ye see," continued Long Jerry, shaking his head, "it was a tragedy to them. You folks livin' in town don't understand what it means for a farmer to lose his pigs. Old Bennett warn't no hunter, and wild meat ain't like hog-meat, anyway. If the b'ar got those porkers them young 'uns would go mighty hungry the next winter.
"Miss Sally, she knew that, all right, and when the boy says: 'What shall we do?' she made up her mind pretty quick that she'd got to try ter do sumpin'—yes, sir-ree! She run for her brother's rifle that hung over the other door.
"'I'm goin' to try and shoot that b'ar, boys,' says she, jest as firm as she could speak.
"'Oh, Aunt Sally! you can't,' says Tom, the oldest.
"'I don't know whether I can or not till I try,' says she. She felt like Miss Ruthie did—eh?" and the long guide chuckled. "No tellin' whether you kin do a thing, or not, till you have a whack at it.
"'Don't you try it, Aunt Sally,' says Charlie. 'He might kill you.'
