Explore "Hunt the Hog of Joe" by Robert Ernest Gilbert on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Long shadows fell across a device on a hill two kilometers from the river. The thing was a large firearm with a heavy barrel about three meters long. The barrel rested on wooden supporting and trailing pieces and projected from between two high wheels. Rasmussen lay with his fat right leg crushed and twisted under a wheel.
The old hunter shook an optical instrument at Betty Toal and me. We were wet from the usual daily thunderstorm, which had delayed our search for the killer of the Hog. "Blasted him! " Rasmussen groaned. "Take this cannon off me! Have waited hours. Why did you not come?"