"
Just then the animal keeled over, and immediately there followed the
report of a rifle. The crawler behind the beast slid back into the
hollow and disappeared. Then, from the left of the house came a volley
that woke the echoes all round; it was the explosion of the Captain's
blunderbuss. The detective ran along the fence to Mr. Terry's beat, and
found the veteran reloading his rifle from the muzzle. "Keep your post,
Mr. Terry," he cried, "while I run and see what it is you have bagged. I
imagine your son-in-law will look after the Captain." Mr. Nash ran down
the hill, closely followed by the lawyer, who had come out to see the
fun. All the bedroom windows were lit up, and eager eyes strained to
learn the cause of the firing, while the remaining sentinels prepared
for action. The animal shot was a large bloodhound, in life a dangerous
brute with horrid, cruel-looking fangs, but now in the agonies of death.
The detective drew his long dagger-like knife, and drove it into the
creature's heart. Then, while Coristine lifted it by the two hind legs,
he took a grasp of its collar, and they carried the trophy of the
veteran's rifle on to the lawn in front of the house.
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