is, stealing towards his
gun.

"Stop, Francois!" said Lucien. "Let Basil try it with his rifle--he is
a surer shot than you."

"Very well," replied Francois; "but if he should miss, it's no harm for
me to be ready."

Basil had already risen, and was silently making for the guns. On
reaching them, he took the long rifle, and turned in the direction of
the game. At the same moment Francois armed himself with his
double-barrel.

The tree up which the squirrel had run was what is termed a "dead-wood."
It was a decaying tulip-tree--scathed by lightning or storm--and stood
somewhat apart from the others, out in the open ground. There was
little else standing but the naked trunks, which rose like a column to
the height of sixty feet. The branches had all been swept away by the
wind, with one exception; and this was a long limb that stretched
diagonally upward from the top of the trunk. The limb, although crooked
and forking in several places, was not very thick. It was without twigs
or leaves, being of course, like the tree itself, dead.

Whilst Basil and Francois were preparing their guns, the squirrel had
made a second rush to the top of this limb; where it sat itself down in
a fork, and appeared to contemplate the setting sun. No better mark
could have been desired for a shot, provided they could get near enough;
and that they were likely to do, for the little animal did not appear to
regard the presence either of them or their horses--thus showing that it
had never been hunted. With its bushy tail erect, and spread like a
fan, it sat upon its haunches, appearing to enjoy the warm beams that
came from the west.

The boys moved softly around the glade, Basil going foremost. When
within range, as he thought, he raised his rifle, levelled it, and was
about to pull trigger, when the squirrel, that up to this moment had not
noticed him, gave a sudden start, dropped its tail, and ran down the
limb as if terrified. It did not stop until it had reached the main
trunk. There it halted, a foot or two from the head, and lay flat
against the bark.

What could have alarmed it? Not the boys, for it had not minded them
before; moreover, it still kept upon their side of the tree, offering as
fair a mark as ever. Had it feared them it would, as all squirrels do,
have hidden from them behind the trunk. But no, it was not afraid of
them; for, as it lay horizontally along the bark, its head was turned
upward, and showe