He had been gone scarcely a
moment before he returned in a great hurry, and, throwing down his ax,
seized his gun, which stood in the corner behind the door, exclaiming,
"Now I've got a chance to make up for losing that owl. A flock of
ducks, regular canvas-backs, have just flown over, and I think they
lit in the swamp. You'll have to make tracks to get the start of me
this time."
And he shouldered his gun, and ran out of the shop, banging the door
after him.
Frank immediately dropped the owl, caught up his gun, and started in
hot pursuit. But his cousin had made the most of his time, and, when
Frank reached the gate, he saw Archie far up the road, tearing along
as fast as his legs could carry him, and spattering the mud in every
direction.
Under any other circumstances, Frank would have stopped to laugh; but,
as it was, he had no time to lose. So he ran down the bank of the
creek, and, untying his skiff, pushed out into the stream, and a few
strokes of the oars brought him to the opposite shore; then, fastening
the skiff to a tree, he started through the woods, toward the swamp.
Pages:
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250