24 A BAD SHOT. 



In my possession was a pet pistol, which would 

 throw a ball with great accuracy, and I considered 

 myself sure of an apple at sixteen paces. One day, 

 just as I was standing by a branch of the river 

 Cherwell, I saw a water-rat sitting on the root of a 

 tree at the opposite side of the river, and watching 

 me closely. The river was not above twelve or four- 

 teen yards wide; and the rat presented so good a mark 

 that I fired at him, and, of course, expected to see him 

 on his back. 



But there sat the rat, quite still on the stump, and 

 about two inches below him the round hole where 

 the bullet had struck. 



As the creature seemed determined to stay there, 

 I reloaded, and took a good aim, determined to make 

 sure of him. As the smoke cleared away, I had the 

 satisfaction of seeing the rat in exactly the same 

 position, and another bullet-hole close by the former. 

 Four shots I made at that provoking animal, and 

 four bullets did I deposit just under him. As I was 

 reloading for a fifth shot, the rat walked calmly 

 down the stump, slid into the water, and departed. 



Now, whether he acted from sheer impertinence, 

 or whether he was stunned by the violent blow be- 

 neath him, I cannot say. The latter may perhaps 

 be the case, for squirrels are killed in North America 

 by the shock of the bullet against the bough on which 

 they sit, so that no hole is made in their skins, and 

 the fur receives no damage. Perhaps the rat was 



