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Updated: June 12, 2025
The going was not good and we ran for two miles without gaining an inch; then we came to a bit of smooth plain and the motor shot ahead at thirty-five miles an hour. We gained slowly and, when about one hundred yards away, I leaped out and fired at the animal breaking the other foreleg low down on the left side.
Not contented with getting the doctor to set Sneezer's starboard foreleg, he insists on bringing him away from amongst the people at the capstan house." De Captain dere cannot laugh, dat is if him will only tink on dat fearful cove at Puerto Escondido, and what Sneezer did for bote of we dere."
It was not fully adult, yet the band was plain to see on the foreleg now stretched to its full length as the sun bored down to supply the heavy heat the snake-devils relished next to food. "Then " Dalgard did not like to think of what might be the answer to that "then." Sssuri shrugged. "It is plain that these are not wild roamers. They are here for a purpose.
When the animal was rolled over by the combined efforts of the three two more wounds were discovered on the left side, which had mostly been exposed to Wabigoon's fire. It was while examining these that the sharp-eyed Mukoki gave a sudden grunt of surprise. "Heem shot before long time ago! Old wound feel bullet!" Between his fingers he was working the loose hide back of the foreleg.
Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with the adjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind the adjutant's and jolted him at every step. "You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant. "No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre in a puzzled tone. "Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg above the knee.
The brute was huddled in a crumpled heap, with one foreleg stuck awkwardly out in front of him at an impossible angle. His tawny mass of coat was mired and oil streaked. In his deep-set brown eyes burned the fires of agony. Yet, as he looked up at the man who bent above him, the dog's gaze was neither fierce nor cringing.
Here, Killeny! The other one. He all right. Kiss and make up. That's the stuff." The other fox-terrier, the one with the injured foreleg, endured Michael's sniff with no more than hysterical growls deep in the throat; but the flipping out of Michael's tongue was too much. The wounded terrier exploded in a futile snap at Michael's tongue and nose.
"Now, wait till I say the word, and then press the trigger. Aim just back of the foreleg, because you're more apt to reach his heart there." "What if I don't kill him?" asked Bandy-legs, with a big sigh. "Clap another shell in and give it to him. Reckon you know how to work the trombone action, don't you?" the trapper went on to say.
The great wolf-dog was slinking towards her on his belly, still trailing the wounded foreleg. There was something snakelike in that slow approach, so silent and so gradual. And yet she waited, moving neither hand nor foot. A sort of nightmare paralysis held her, as when we flee from some horror in our dreams and find that our limbs have grown numb.
Lad cantered along, ahead of them. The light bullet-scratch on his foreleg did not lame or annoy him.
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