“I want to see to get a good shot, and put the poor things out of their misery as soon as possible,” he said.
The dogs acted more wild than ever as they saw the motor boat moving about. They almost leaped overboard, as they raced about the derelict and finally, they both jumped on the quarter deck, where they stood in bold relief.
“Now’s your chance, Jerry!” cried Ned.
Jerry took quick aim, steadying himself as best he could against the motion of the boat. The rifle cracked, and, at the same instant one of the dogs gave a howl, a convulsive leap, and, a second later was floundering in the water.
“There’s one of the poor brutes gone,” remarked Mr. De Vere. “Now, once more, Jerry. I hate to kill the dogs, for they are valuable animals, but it is a question of their lives or ours, and it would not be safe to let them live.”
The remaining dog, startled by the rifle shot, and the disappearance of its companion stood in mute surprise on the quarter deck. He offered a good shot, and Jerry fired. The dog howled, and began whirling about in a circle, snapping its jaws.
“You’ve only wounded him!” exclaimed Bob.
Before any one else could speak Jerry had fired the repeater again. This time the bullet went true, and the dog fell to the deck, gave a few convulsive struggles, and was still.
“That settles him,” remarked Mr. De Vere.
“Now, boys, we’ll go aboard, and I’ll get what belongs to me. Then we’ll see if we can tow the ship in.”