Jones let out the stentorian blast, now becoming familiar, and spurred after them.

He reached over, pulled the shotgun out of the holster and fired both barrels at the jumping dogs.
I expressed my amazement in strong language, and Wallace whistled.
Don came sneaking back with his tail between his legs, and Moze, who had cowered as if stung, circled round ahead of us.

Jones finally succeeded in gettin him back.
"Come in hyah! You measly rabbit dogs! What do you mean chasing off that way?
We're after lions.

Lions! understand ?" Don looked thoroughly convinced of his error, but Moze, being more thick-headed, appeared mystified rather than hurt or frightened.
"What size shot do you use ?" I asked.
"Number ten.

They don't hurt much at seventy five yards," replied our leader.