Revisiting a hunting trip we took when I was...younger

First off, I don't camp anymore, being older, it takes longer to revive from a night sleeping on the ground, and I won't even get into how much I hate the cold now. But, when I was younger we camped quite often. One such trip I would like to mention here, i will call it:

"Never go camping with an armed Moron."

It started out normal enough, four guys hiking out into the woods with pup tents, 22 cal. rifles, a bow with arrows, and a dog. None of us knew the Archer was an absolute Moron. We set up camp on a small clearing on the top of a small hill, no one had a level tent but it really wasn't that bad. On the second day, we crawled out of the tents to find the fire was just a few embers beneath a few partially burnt logs and everything was covered with about a 1/2 inch of snow.

Snow has never been one of my favorite things, I went out and found some dry twigs and such under nearby pines for kindling and after a few minutes had the fire going again. The four of us sat around the fire waiting with the dog tied up next to us. I was waiting for the coffee to heat and Gary was cooking up bacon and eggs for everyone. At this point, Moron boy got up, went to his tent and came back out with his bow. Moron was using hunting tips on his arrows, hunting tips are essentially a triangle of steel razor  blades.

He walked up to the fire, Pulled the bowstring back, aimed straight in the air and let it fly. Now, what goes up must come down, Moron it would seem had never heard of Issac Newton's Law of Gravity. The other three of us watched him do this, but it was as if none of us were really paying attention, we sat there, then, without a word to each other, we jumped up and began running away in three different directions. The arrow did just what it was suppose to do, it went up, ran out of momentum then returned to earth. It came straight down into the area of the camp fire. Now, the only one of us that didn't run was the dog, the moron's dog. Now, not really knowing the dog, having just met it the day before, I cannot say if it was aware that it's master was a complete Moron. I would assume it probably had a clue of this but being a dog and faithful it didn't confide this fact to us. The arrow continued it's downward plunge. Now whether because it was tied up, or perhaps just ignorant of it's master's stupidity it just stood there. The arrow missing the dogs head by about an inch proceeded past the dogs ear and struck a rock on the ground after it passed through the dogs front right foot. After the arrow struck, it bounced upward off the rock and passed through the space between the now airborne yelping dogs neck and collar, where it got trapped. I grabbed some bandages out of the first aid kit and wrapped the dogs foot, Gary removed the arrow from the collar and John...well, John punched moron in the face, took his bow and broke it in half with a crook in a tree.
The trip was over at this point. Moron carried his dog out of the woods and for some strange reason was never invited to go with us again.