326 Sporting Sketches 



dawdling, we were far enough ! Then it surely 

 would be " Wa'al, good mawnin', gemmen 

 reckon I'se dun gwine dishyer ways fur a peece 

 you'se 'tirely too spry fur de ole man dis mawnin'." 



And then how we'd leg it till we could melt in 

 behind handy trees from which to watch the old 

 rascal hustling back for that " squrl " ! He'd find it, 

 too, all right, and before long the roar of the old 

 gas-pipe would come to our straining ears. Sweet 

 was that sound sweet as the purl of running 

 water in the desert, or a drift of music from the 

 nearest there may be to an earthly Eden. Only the 

 truly good can understand ! And the victim would 

 load and fire again and again while we kept careful 

 tabs. We could picture him fumbling and sweating 

 while trying to keep his pop eyes on the wary quarry. 

 At every fresh roar there would be gasping snorts of 

 bliss, while we lay on the ground and clung to roots 

 and things, lest we be bodily transported to where 

 such pleasure knoweth no end. And when at last 

 the final silence fell when we knew that shot, or 

 powder, or caps, had run out, wow ! how good it 

 was! how fair the earth! how sweet just to 

 lie there and picture the outraged one storming 

 away home and maybe half knocking the head off 

 the first pickaninny that dared to ask "Did yo' 

 git menny squrl ? " 



But the cream of the squirrel shooting is enjoyed 

 by the man who uses a light rifle of small caliber 

 and medium power. Good shots always aimed for 

 the head, both to add to the difficulty of the sport and 

 to avoid spoiling meat. And be it known that a 

 squirrel's head at forty or fifty yards is no easy 



