"That Nick Ribsam can beat me out of my boots; I never heard of such a
thing as 'barking' a squirrel till he showed me how it is done, and he
used a gun that is older than himself. Well, Nick was always smarter
than other boys; he is younger than I, and I have taken sparring lessons
of the best teachers in the country, while he never heard of such a
thing as science in using his fists; but he just sailed into me that
day, and the first thing I knew he had me down, and was banging himself
on me so hard that I have never got over the flattening out--hallo!"
A gray squirrel, flirting its bushy tail, whisked across the path in
front of him that moment, scampered up a hickory and perched itself near
the top, where it offered the best chance for a shot that one could
wish.
"Now I'll see what I can do," muttered Herbert, sighting at the saucy
little fellow, who seemed to be ridiculing his purpose of reaching it
with a bullet at such a height.
The young hunter aimed with great care, pressed the trigger, and, as the
sharp report rang through the woods, the squirrel came tumbling to the
ground, with its skull shattered.
Herbert Watrous was surprised and delighted, scarcely believing in his
own success. He picked up the slain rodent and saw that its destruction
had been caused by the bullet he fired.
"That's business," he exclaimed, with a thrill of pride; "but why
couldn't I shoot that way when Nick and Sam were looking at me? I know
how the thing is done now, and when we get together I'll give them some
lessons in marksmanship.
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