The rotten
limb upon which Jerry was hanging, unable to stand the strain of his
weight and movements, gave way with a crash.
He felt a thrill of horror as he found himself being precipitated
downward, knowing as he did that the largest and fiercest of the wild
pack was still there, unhurt save in the way of a few stray shot that had
flecked his tawny hide with tiny blood spots!
CHAPTER XV
IN A BEAR'S HOLLOW
Jerry landed with a crash that almost shook the breath from his body.
Realizing the need of haste in getting upon his feet, he scrambled erect.
He had maintained that frenzied clutch upon his gun, as if believing that
it was his best and only friend in this emergency.
One thing helped him. The big yellow hound had been startled, first by
the crash of the gun so close to his head, and then again by the rapid
downward plunge of the human figure.
Perhaps some dim recollection of former beatings at the hands of some
severe master may also have temporarily demoralized the brute.
At any rate Jerry was given just about five seconds to turn the corner,
and thus place the tree between himself and his enemy.
Then the dog bounded forward, and a warm chase began around that same
tree, with Jerry doing his prettiest to keep beyond reach of those
gleaming fangs that pressed closely in his rear.
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