An' Bull ain't one to let no hounds see him quit, an' he plows along, till at last he gets t' them hills an' is lost t' sight but t' mem'ry dear.

Well, I goes back t' that rock, an' sits down, sad-like, thinkin' mebbe I never will see Bull again.
"An' p'r'aps it's an hour goes by, when I hears somethin' that sounds like a engine puffin' strong on a upgrade, an' up over one of them hummocks comes Bull, draggin' himself along like he has flatirons tied t' his feet.

An' he's all decorated with real estate, an' burrs, an' everythin' loose what would stick to him.

An' when he gets to where I sits, he flops down flat on his back.

He sure is exhausted; even his paws is limp.