We'll go 'long 'tween Wildcat an' the Ford, an' pick up a wagon-load uv ez good shooters ez thet clumsy chunk o' pot-metal wuz.

Shake yourself together.

We've on'y got a mile or so ter go now." In Harry's condition, the "mile or so" seemed to be stretching out a long ways around the globe, and he began to ask himself how near he was to the much-referred-to "heart of the Southern Confederacy." At length a little fading toward gray of the thick blackness, to that they had emerged from the heavy woods into more open country.

Harry thought they were come to fields, but he could see nothing, and without remark plodded painfully after his leader.
Suddenly a large pack of dogs immediately in front of them broke the stillness with a startling diapason, ranging from the deep bass of the mastiff to the ringing bark of the fox-hounds.

Mingled with this was the sound of the whole pack rushing fiercely forward.