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.

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.

In this he managed fairly well, but after he had pranced around that tree quite a dozen times he made the alarming discovery that he was rapidly being winded.  His canine adversary, on the other hand, appeared to be as fresh as ever.

Unless something occurred to assist him, it began to look very much as though he might trip after growing dizzy, and the big yellow brute pounce upon him.