light sleeper in the house, the thief resolved on a daring move.
This creature in front of him,--dog or bear or goat, or whatever
it was,--was uncatchable. But by sending a bullet through it, he
could bring the animal to a sudden and permanent stop.

Then, snatching up his bag and running at top speed, be himself
could easily win clear of the Place before anyone of the
household should appear. 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. The thief had heard
this old marksman-maxim fifty times. But, like most hearers of
maxims, he had forgotten it at the one time in his speckled
career when it might have been of any use to him.

He had fired. He had missed. In another second, every sleeper in
the house and in the gate-lodge would be out of bed. His night's
work was a blank, unless--

With a bull rush he hurled himself forward at the interestedly
waiting Lad. And, as he sprang, he fired again. Then several