When the last sad rites were over, he charged his gun as usual, rubbed his nose thoughtfully with his sleeve, took a drink at the pump and wandered away.
He had been gone about fifteen minutes, when Mr.Butterwick heard two shots in quick succession.

A minute later he saw Brown coming up the road with a considerable amount of velocity, pursued by Mr.Potts and a three-legged dog.

Brown kept ahead; and when he had shot through the gate, he dashed into the house and bolted the door.

Then Potts arrived with his dog, which stood by, looking as if it were very anxious to lunch upon somebody, while Potts explained to Butterwick that Brown had shot a leg off of his dog, and that he, Potts, intended to have satisfaction for the injury, if he had to go to law about it.
When Mr.Butterwick had pacified Potts and sent him away, Mr.
Butterwick sought an interview with Brown: "Brown, you have been behaving in a most preposterous manner ever since you came here.

I employed you as a gardener, not as a gunner.
You have nearly killed a valuable animal belonging to Mr.Potts; and I'll thank you to tell me what you mean, and right off, too." Brown winked again, cleared his throat, pulled up his shirt-collar and said, "I was goin' to quit soon as I ketched Potts's dog.