“Never fire across your pony’s neck unless you are positive that no other rider is ahead of you on either hand. Better take your rabbit head on; then the danger of shooting into some of the rest of us will be eliminated.”
Sue sniffed at this. She had no gun, of course, but almost wished she had–and she said as much to one of her friends. She’d show that range girl that she couldn’t boss her!
“Why! that’s good advice about using our guns,” said this girl to whom Sue complained, surprised at the objection.
“Pooh! what does she know about it? She puts herself forward too much,” replied the girl from Boston.
It is probable that Sue would have talked about any other girl in the party who seemed to take the lead. Sue was used to being the leader herself, and if she couldn’t lead she didn’t wish to follow. There are more than a few people in the world of Sue’s temperament–and very unpleasant people they are.
But it was Frances who got the first jack. The creature came leaping down the slope, having broken cover at the brink and quite unseen by the rest of the hunters.
This was business to Frances, instead of sport. If allowed to multiply the jack-rabbits were not only a pest to the farmers, but to everybody else. Frances raised the light firearm she carried and popped Mr. Longears over “on the fly.”
“Glory! that’s a good one!” shouted Pratt, enthusiastically.
“A clean hit, Frances,” said Mrs. Edwards. “You are a splendid shot, child.”
Miss Boston sniffed!