He hesitated an instant. It would never do to go back now that he had come this far. Someone might have seen him. The “accident” was certain to happen shortly. To turn back now would be equivalent to admitting a guilty knowledge. Nor would he dare enter the blind with O’Hearn. For when one of the “doctored” shells exploded, anyone within a radius of a dozen feet would be in danger.
Moving slowly, trying to think of some excuse to keep out of the other’s company, he rounded a curve in the pathway. He was almost upon O’Hearn before he noticed the other sprawled upon the river bank, half asleep.
III
Dogs are affectionate animals. The one owned by O’Hearn was no exception to the rule. Forced to remain with its master when the other canines of the party were enjoying a full day’s sport, it longed for a romp. Hankenson had often played with it in times gone past. Recognizing its friend, it leaped to its feet, and, tail waving, started toward him.
Hankenson’s gun was in his hand. It was this that probably caused a streak of peculiar dog reasoning to flash through the animal’s brain.
“Here,” he probably thought to himself, “is why my master has been waiting. Now that he’s arrived, let’s get started.”
Seizing O’Hearn’s hunting coat in his mouth, the animal leaped toward Hankenson, the heavily loaded pockets of the coat swinging wildly.
As it fawned upon the newcomer one of the loaded pockets struck the butt of Hankenson’s shotgun.
Nitro-glycerin explodes upon concussion!