This is the sad tale of the township of Dogville. Dogville was in the Rocky Mountains in the US of A. Up here where the road came to its definitive end near the entrance to the old, abandoned silver mine.

Most of the buildings were pretty wretched; more like shacks; frankly. The house in which Tom lived was the best, though, and in good times might almost have passed for presentable.

Jason gave that mutt a bone with meat on it? When did we last see meat? Next time you waste good food I'll take your knife away. Oughta known it was you giv'n meat to eat. Moses was meant to be hungry! To keep watch.

These are wicked times, Tom Edison. Soon there'll be folks by with even less than us.

You think they're fine? I don't think so, I think there is a lot this country has forgotten. I just try and refresh folks memory by way of illustration.

Tom could have spent another half hour or more on the bench, but another unusual noise roused him. It was Moses barking. Oh, that wasn't unusual in itself, but it was the way he barked that was new. His barking was not loud, but more of a snarl, as if the danger was quite close at hand and not merely a passing raccoon or fox. As if the dog were standing face to face with a force to be taken seriously.

Hey Lady! I wouldn't go up there if I were you. I know the mountain well, I doubt if I'd get away with my life. It's a very nasty drop.

Is there another way?