PORTRAITS IN INK 205 



You are so fortunate as to accomplish stealthy 

 approach to a squirrel that, unconscious of danger, 

 sits rasping a nut on a hickory branch, and as a 

 courteous host should, you signal your guest to 

 take the easy shot. 



Slowly unlimbering his gun from under his arm, 

 while he calculates the distance, he cautiously 

 raises the weapon to its deadly aim. You hold 

 your breath in expectancy breathless; but if you 

 held it till he fired, you would have no further use 

 for it. 



A busy spider runs out to the steadfast muzzle 

 and cables it to the ground with a silver thread. 

 The squirrel turns his nut, half eaten, to begin on 

 the other side, and suddenly becomes aware of 

 enemies. Down drops the nut with raspings of 

 shuck and shell, and up goes the squirrel behind 

 the sheltering trunk, then out upon the further 

 branches, and so goes plunging and scampering 

 through upper byways in swift retreat to the heart 

 of the woods. 



Without lowering his gun, the dilatory marks- 

 man turns an almost triumphant face toward you, 

 as who should say, " If he had not moved his fate 

 was sealed." 



He never risks a shot at running or flying game. 

 You would as soon think of an oyster snatching 

 its prey as of him shooting on the wing. If his 

 game will not wait, it may go unscathed. 



