way and a wrong way.

This was a splendid time to hunt for rabbits, right after a rain. They
come out then before dark, and nibble about. And you can walk on the
wetness without much noise. Early morning and the evening are the best
rabbit hours, anyway.

I walked quick and straight-footed, looking far ahead, and right and
left, through the timber, to sight whatever moved. Yet I might be
passing close to a rabbit, without seeing him, for he would be
squatting. So I looked behind, too. And after I had walked about twenty
minutes, I did see a rabbit. He was hopping, at one side, through the
bushes; he gave only about three hops, and squatted, to let me pass. So
I stopped stock-still, and drew up my rifle. He was about thirty yards
away, and was just a bunch like a stone; but I held my breath and aimed
at where his ears joined his head, and fired quick. He just kicked a
little. That was a pretty good shot and I was glad, for I didn't want to
hurt him and we had to have meat.

I hunted quite a while before I saw another rabbit. The next one was a
big old buck rabbit, because his hind quarters around his tail were
brown; young rabbits are white there. He hopped off, without stopping,
and I whistled at him--wheet! Then he stopped, and I missed him. I shot
over him, because I was in a hurry. I went across and saw where the
bullet had hit. And he had ducked.

He hopped out of sight, through the brush; so I must figure where he
probably would go. On beyond was a hilly place, with rocks, and probably
he lived here--and rabbits usually make up-hill when they're
frightened. So I took a circle, to cut him off; and soon he hopped again
and squatted. This time I shot him through the head, where I aimed; so I
didn't hurt him, either. I picked him up and was starting back for camp,
because two rabbits were enough, when I heard somebody shouting. It
didn't sound like a Scout's shout, but I answered and waited and kept
answering, and in a few minutes a strange boy came running and walking
fast through the trees. He carried a single-barrel shotgun.

He never would have seen me if I hadn't spoken; but when he wasn't more
than ten feet from me I said: "What's the matter?"

He jumped and saw me standing. "Hello," he panted. "Was it you who was
shooting and calling?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you come on, then?" he scolded. He was angry.

"Because you were coming," I said. "I stood still and called back, to
guide you."

"What did you