He felt himself as Henry Baskerville, when he walked from the garage through the desert in the night in a strong fog on a completely deserted terrain. In his hands was only a small cloth for the cloth of homeless dogs, which recently became more and more interested in lonely passers. And around the trail there was a desert reminiscent of Devonshire swamps. He went and in his head came quotes, which in these circumstances was very fun: "...beware of going out on the swamp alone, when the forces of evil rule indissociably", "...I have a whistle, and I have a revolver...".
Better a revolver.