Jack was quick enough to promise; he meant to keep his promise, too;
and I think would have kept it if it hadn't been for his master. You
didn't know Jack had a master? No more did he know it till the day he
had to give up his gun.

You see, Jack had a little brother, two years younger than himself,
who was a very spirit of mischief, and loved above all things to tease
big Jack. One day, when the two boys were playing together, pretending
to be wild Indians out in the woods. Will began to tease Jack by
saying: "There was a little man, and he had a little gun," and all the
rest of that little song. I don't know why this teased Jack, but he
got madder and madder, until, alas! in spite of his promise, he
pointed his gun--not at the "duck--duck--duck," but at Will, and
struck him on the cheek.

Now it was not the wooden arrow with which his gun was loaded this
time, but one leg of a sharp steel hairpin, and it went into the cheek
and stuck there like a little dagger.

Half an hour later the red gun was in ashes on mamma's hearth, while
mamma herself and both boys sat sorrowfully by its grave.

"Mamma," said Jack, "I didn't mean to shoot Will, but somehow I
couldn't help it."

"No," said mamma, shaking her head: "I forgot when I let you keep the
gun that you had a master."

"A master?" asked Jack, in surprise.