SQUIRREL SHOOTING 



tary pause and the squirrel halts for an in- 

 stant on a limb half-way to the top of the 

 tree. 



Then the crack of a rifle, spiteful and short, 

 sounds in the woods, and a twenty-two-calibre 

 bullet has whizzed through the squirrel's 

 head. Death is instantaneous and probably 

 painless, and the nimble forager of the woods 

 drops plummet-like to the ground below. 

 The hunter slips another cartridge into the 

 breech of his gun and waits a few minutes 

 before going forward. Sometimes there are 

 two squirrels playing about together, and the 

 other one may show itself, looking for its 

 comrade. If there is no sound the hunter 

 presently moves up and takes his game, 

 smooths the broad bushy tail out, and care- 

 fully tucks the squirrel away in the back of 

 his hunting-coat. Then he shifts his position, 

 say fifty yards or so, to another part of the 

 grove, selects a likely looking place near some 

 old logs under a clump of fine oak, and sits 

 down on a convenient stump. 



The day dozes and drowses over cloud- 

 vistas and across masses of emerald foliage, 

 but the sun finds few chinks to sift through 

 133 



