That day the sheep were kept in on account of the snow and Wully, without his usual occupation, was lying on some planks in the sun. As the hunters drew near the house, he growled savagely and sneaked around to where the sheep were. Jo Greatorex walked up to where Wully had crossed the fresh snow, gave a glance, looked dumbfounded, then pointing to the retreating sheep-dog, he said, with emphasis:
"Lads, we're off the track of the Fox. But there's the killer of the Widder's yowes."
Some agreed with Jo, others recalled the doubt in the trail and were for going back to make a fresh follow. At this juncture, Dorley himself came out of the house.
"Tom," said Jo, "that dog o' thine 'as killed twenty of Widder Gelt's sheep, last night. An' ah fur one don't believe as its 'is first killin'."
"Why, mon, thou art crazy," said Tom. "Ah never 'ad a better sheep-dog—'e fair loves the sheep."
"Aye! We's seen summat o' that in las' night's work," replied Jo.
In vain the company related the history of
