"Heah a ole hyah settin' in her haid. Come heah, Dan, quick! Gi' me your gun; le' me git him!"
This was more than Dan bargained for, as he had not got one himself yet. He ran up quickly enough, but held on tightly to his gun.
"Where is he? Show him to me: I 'll knock him over."
As he would not give up the gun, Peter pointed out the game.
"See him?"
"No."
"Right under dat bush—right dyah" (pointing). "See him? Teck keer dyah, Don, teck keer," he called, as Don came to a point just beyond. "See him?" He pointed a black finger with tremulous eagerness.
No, Dan did not see, so he reluctantly yielded up the gun.
Peter took aim long and laboriously, shut both eyes, pulled the trigger, and blazed away.
There was a dash of white and brown, a yell, and Don wheeled around with his head between his forepaws stung by the shot as "molly" fled streaking it over the hill followed only by the dogs.