WHAT WAS IT ? 67 



to a branch of the tree, in the full light of the 

 moon ; I forgot all about snares, and dogs, and 

 poachers, and father's orders, and simply let 

 fly at it, determined to find out what it was. 

 Nothing fell, nothing flew away, the result was 

 just the same as if I had shot at a bubble ; 

 indeed, the thing itself was just like a soap 

 bubble that a child might blow through a long 

 clay pipe. It was as large as a common — or 

 garden — hen, but shaped something like a 

 pig's bladder blown out, and, when I had shot, 

 it seemed as if all the wind had escaped. 



Up I jumped out of the pit, and rushed up to 

 the tree to pick up what I had shot, for, though 

 I saw nothing fall, I am a pretty dead shot, 

 and I scarcely believed I had missed my quarry. 

 Nothing there ; neither fish, flesh, fowl, or even 

 a feather. Father and Dick now arrived, and 

 found the gun standing in the pit, and me, 

 alternately, gazing up into the tree, or groping 

 on the ground. 



"What did you shoot at ? " growls father. 



" Something," I replied, feebly. 



"Well what was it? " 



