If you ever knew what a gun is, I guess you've
forgotten by now."
In this strain he talked to them, and kept both dogs jumping up at him in
the endeavor to get a grip. Sometimes they brushed his dangling foot
with their jaws, and at that Jerry involuntarily drew up a little.
When he had inserted the shells, he tried to get a chance to cover the
big dog. That animal, though, apparently suspected his purpose, and kept
jumping about so wildly that it seemed impossible to aim at him. The
second brute had been wounded so seriously that it had crawled away, so
there were now but two left.
Finally, seeing a good chance to knock over the smaller one of the pair,
Jerry could not resist the temptation.
The animal may once have been a family pet, but a wild existence of some
months, perhaps years, had taken him back to the wild state from which
his ancestors had come ages ago. He was a mangy-looking, dirty white
brute, with eyes that seemed red to the boy in the tree.
At the report of the gun the animal fell over in a kicking heap, for the
distance was so very short that the charge of shot had gone with all the
destructive power of a "forty-four" bullet.
But something not down on the programme immediately followed.
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