"I was deceived by my ears, that is all. As I
ran in under the trees here I could not resist the temptation to take a
shot at him, for he was running, too. Now," he slowly added, gazing
sadly at the dead squirrel, "I wish I had not fired."

"Oh, it's nothing but a squirrel," said Bruce. "If I could make such a
shot as that I'd be proud of it."

"I am not proud, only sorry," said Frank, as he gently placed the
squirrel on a soft bed of moss. "Look at the little fellow, Bruce! A few
moments ago he was full of life, happy and free; now he is dead, killed
by a cruel brute of a man! I didn't think I'd hit him, but that is no
excuse. I ought not to have tried. Somewhere he has a home, a nest, a
mate, perhaps little ones. He'll never return to his soft nest, never
again will he scamper through the woods, leaping from bough to bough,
playing hide-and-seek through the brush and the leaves. He is dead, and
I killed him. Bruce, this one thoughtless, hasty act of mine lies like a
sore weight on my conscience. I'll not forget it in a week. It will
trouble me--it will haunt me."

Frank's voice was rather husky with emotion and his handsome face
betrayed his deep feeling of sorrow, and Bruce Browning, who was not
cruel or hard-hearted, but who would have killed a squirrel and never
given it a second thought, now began to realize that there might be
something wrong in the act.

"Oh, it's nothing to make a fuss over," he said, quickly.

"Yes, it is," declared Frank, sincerely. "That little squirrel never
harmed me, but I murdered him. He was one of God's creatures, and I had
no right to lift my hand against him. I feel like a brute, a wretch, a
murderer!"

Then Frank knelt down on the moss beside the dead squirrel.

"Oh, little squirrel!" he said, his voice breaking into a sob; "how much
I would give could I restore your life to you! But I have killed you,
and all my regret and sorrow over the act will not bring you back to
scamper and frolic through the woods."

To his astonishment, Bruce felt a misty blur come over his eyes, and
there was a choking sensation in his throat.

"Come away, Merry--come and leave it!" he exclaimed, thickly. "Don't be
a fool!"

"No," said Frank, "I can't leave him this way."

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the squirrel in it,
doing so with such gentleness that Bruce wondered more and more. Then he
searched about till he found a thin, flat rock that was about a foot
long and