The boys supposed that there was only one squirrel in the tree, and were running up to secure him, when, to their surprise, they discovered a number of the little animals scattering in different directions, and drawing “bee-lines” for the nearest trees.

Frank killed one with his remaining barrel, and Harry, by an excellent shot, brought down another that had climbed up into the top of a tall oak, and was endeavoring to hide among the leaves.  Brave and Sport both started after the same one, and overtook and killed it before it could reach a tree; but the grayhound came very near losing his.  As soon as the stump had fallen, he singled out one of the squirrels, and, with two or three of his long bounds, overtook it; but, just as he was going to seize it, the squirrel dived into a pile of brush, out of the reach of the hound.  A few loud, angry yelps brought Archie and George to his assistance, and they immediately began to pull the pile of brush to pieces.  Suddenly the squirrel darted out, and started for a tree that stood about two rods distant.  The boys threw their clubs at him, but he reached the foot of the tree unharmed.  At this moment Lightfoot discovered him; two or three bounds carried him to the tree, and, crouching a moment, he sprang into the air, and attempted to seize the squirrel.  But he was just a moment too late; the little animal had ascended out of his reach; but the next moment the sharp report of Harry’s gun brought him to the ground.

The squirrels were now all secured, and the young hunters again turned their faces homeward.

One cold, stormy night, in the latter part of October, Frank and his cousin lay snug in bed, listening to the howling of the wind and the pattering of the rain against the window, and talking over their plans for the future, when, all at once, Frank sat upright in bed, and, seizing Archie’s arm with a grip that almost wrung from him a cry of pain, exclaimed,

“Listen! listen!”

And the next moment, clear and loud above the noise of the storm, they heard the trumpet-like notes of a flock of wild geese.  They passed over the house, and the sound grew fainter as they flew rapidly away.

“My eye!” exclaimed Archie, “don’t I wish it was daylight, and we stood out in front of the house, with our guns all ready!”

“That’s a nice thing to wish for,” answered Frank; “but, if it were daylight, we should not stand any better chance of shooting them than we do here in bed.”

“What’s the reason?”

“Why, in the first place, if they went over at all, they would fly so high that it would need a rifle to reach them; and, in the next place, we have not got a rifle.  Just wait until morning, and we’ll make a scattering among them, if some one don’t get the start of us.”

“I suppose we are not the only ones that have heard them.”

“Not by a good deal.  I shouldn’t wonder if there were a dozen fellows that have made up their minds to have a crack at them in the morning.”