I reaches for my six-shooter one evenin' by virchoo of antelopes, an' that's the time I discovers this foible of Jerry's.

I never gets a shot.

At the sight of the gun Jerry evolves a howl an' the antelopes tharupon hits two or three high places an' is miles away.

Shore, they thinks Jerry is some new breed of demon.
"When I turns to note the cause of Jerry's clamours he's loppin' his fore-laigs over Tom's back an' sobbin' an' sheddin' tears into his mane.
Tom sympathises with Jerry an' says all he can to teach him that the avenger ain't on his trail.

Nothin' can peacify Jerry, however, except jammin' that awful six-shooter back into its holster.