With a prayer in his heart, though his lips were
mute, he suddenly whirled, thrust out the gun, and pulled the trigger.
Fortune was certainly with him that day. The dog viciously seized hold of
the gun barrel in his teeth; and it was just at this instant that Jerry
pressed the trigger.
He saw the big beast swirl half-way around. Then he fell in a
quivering heap.
"Hurrah!"
It was but a pitiful shout poor Jerry gave, for he was quite out of
breath. He, too, fell down in a heap close to the yellow form of his
enemy; but instinctively his hands worked, trying to place his faithful
gun in readiness for further work.
It was not needed.
Besides the big yellow leader of the wild pack, he presently found a
second brute stone dead; and had the pleasure of dispatching both the
others shortly after.
"Might as well make a clean sweep of it," he said, with a feeling of
having accomplished something worth while; for Jesse had told him these
roving dogs were just as destructive to sheep and other domestic animals
as so many timber wolves would have been.
Perhaps the farmers of the community might feel like voting Jerry thanks
for his good service of that day. And not knowing whether he could find
the place again he proceeded to cut off the four caudal appendages, "to
embellish his tale," as Frank later on declared with a laugh.
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