And his car would be a mile away before the neighborhood could be aroused.

Fury at the weird beast and the wrenching strain on his own nerves lent eagerness to his acceptance of the idea.
He reached back again for his pistol, whipped it out, and, coming to a standstill, aimed at the pup.

Lad, waiting only to bound over an obstruction in his path, came to a corresponding pause, not ten feet ahead of his playmate.
It was an easy shot.

Yet the bullet went several inches above the obligingly waiting dog's back.

Nine men out of ten, shooting by moonlight or by flashlight, aim too high.