"That is a good shot," said Frank, pointing to a large fox squirrel.
"But he knows we won't kill him, and that's the reason he shows
himself."

"Is it right to shoot the pretty squirrels, Uncle Robert?" asked Susie.

"I thought so when I was a boy. I shot a great many of them then. It was
fun for me, and I felt very proud when I brought home half a dozen
grays.

"Once I went home from the city for a summer's rest. I took my gun for a
stroll in the oak woods where I had shot so many squirrels. I put my gun
against a tree and lay down upon the leaves. Soon I was fast asleep. I
dreamed of a group of merry, laughing children running, scampering,
playing."

[Illustration: The squirrel]

"Then my dream became real--not children, but the gray coats, five or
six of them, close to me, were running up the trees, jumping from limb
to limb, scampering over the ground, chasing each other, laughing as
squirrels laugh, and screaming as squirrels scream. I watched the happy
playmates, brim full of fun. I have never shot a squirrel since."




CHAPTER IX.