actually entered the larders and helped themselves.

It happened one night that Jinks led his pack to his old home--the
place where he had been so carefully reared. Whether he remembered the
place it is impossible to say, but his master was waiting for them
with a number of other men, and, as they were all armed with guns, the
pack had a warm reception.

As a rule, no matter how much the inhabitants of the bungalows were
prepared, the moment that horrible, howling scream began they lost
their nerve, and became so frightened and bewildered that they were
only too thankful if the jackals took what they wanted in the shape of
food and they escaped with their lives.

But Jinks' old master and the men who were with him were made of
different stuff, and when, with their usual howl, the animals sprang
upon the house, they were met with a volume of fire and smoke that
frightened and subdued them for a moment. When they recovered
themselves, they were met with more fire and smoke, and, as the latter
cleared away, numbers of them could be seen stretched out on the
ground, limp and senseless.

Among these was Jinks--brave, plucky, crafty, treacherous Jinks--who
had led his pack to the home which had nourished and fed him, and to
the master who had tended and cared for him.

As soon as the pack found that their leader had fallen with so many
others of their kin, and as the horrible smoke and fire kept on, the
remaining members of it turned and fled, howling, moaning and
screaming at the top of their voices.