This was no easy task, especially when encumbered with a gun, for he would not think of letting this precious ally go; but there was enough inspiration in the approaching yelps and growls of the wild dogs to spur him on to heroic efforts, and, as a consequence, he managed to get beyond their reach.
It was an old tree in which he happened to have sought refuge. Just then, however, Jerry was not caring about that, for it was a case of any port in a storm; and as he said, "beggars should not be choosers."
Quite out of breath, he clung to the rotten limb and proceeded to shout at the dogs so as to keep them there until he could find a chance to insert fresh charges in his gun, when he expected to take care of them.
"Hey, you with the collar, ain't you ashamed of yourself to take to such a pirate life, when you once had a good home, I bet? Say, ain't he a jim-dandy of a big bouncer, though, and as strong as an ox? I'd just hate to fall into his maw. Now, hang around a few seconds more, and I've got a nice surprise for you. 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. The rotten limb upon which Jerry was hanging, unable to stand the strain of his weight and movements, gave way with a crash.