“What could I do but kill her? One pail she kicked over full of milk, we never saw or heard of agin; but Dyer’s folks, live over on the North Road, about a mile off, said they had quite a little shower of milk at their house that morning,—wondered where it come from. I had a pair of boots made out of her hide; but I never could wear ’em. I was always kicking somebody, and gitting hauled up for ’sault ’n’ battery.”