A Skirmish with Squirrels 329 



neck, an inch from the spot aimed at. But the view 

 was none too clear and no meat is spoiled. Rus- 

 tling of leaves and branches are heard in several 

 directions, for the rifle, though small, has a spiteful 

 tongue, and the game has moved a bit. In the 

 distance a swift shape is traversing a fallen tree, 

 but we had better remain quietly where we are, as 

 another squirrel may be hiding above. Moments 

 pass and at last a leaf rustles. There ! See upon 

 that long limb stretching toward the maples. With 

 high-arched back and head in bold relief, he pauses 

 to measure the leap. The other rifle comes into 

 position, dwells a moment, then again the fatal 

 crack. The squirrel makes a convulsive spring in 

 the direction it had intended taking, but it appears 

 to halt in mid air ; then it comes whizzing down, 

 turning over and over as it falls. The shock was 

 instant death. 



And so it goes on through three pleasant hours. 

 We change position now and then, but at last the 

 word has been passed around to all the furry people, 

 and chances become few and far between. Our last 

 squirrel is espied running along the border-fence, and 

 we watch him closely. He halts, hesitates, then drops 

 upon the ground, where for a time he sits erect to 

 take observations. Satisfied that the coast is clear, 

 he moves toward the pool in a series of hesitating 

 leaps, interrupted by many cautious pauses for 

 examination of the surroundings. He at last leaps 

 to a small snag projecting a few inches above the 

 water. He forms a pretty picture as he sits with 

 ebon plume curving above his back, and his in- 

 verted image as sharply defined below. 



