As he cautiously backed from the house, his feet struck against a heavy cart stake, which seemed to suggest his next resort.

He was well aware that any quick movement on his part would cause the dog to spring upon him.

Placing his toe under the stake, he raised it with his foot, till he could reach it with his hand, keeping his gaze fixed upon the eyes of the dog, which glared like fiery orbs in the gloom of the hour.
Tige saw the stick, and he appeared to have a wholesome respect for it--a sentiment inspired by sundry beatings, intended to cure a love of mutton on the hoof, or beef on the shelf.

The brute retreated a few paces; but at this moment Squire Pemberton appeared at the front door, with a lantern in his hand.

He understood the "situation" at a glance.
"Take him, Tige! Stu' boy!" shouted the squire.
The dog snarled an encouraging reply to this suggestion, and moved up towards the fugitive.