Boucheseiche, astonished, looked attentively at the tree, then at the laughing crowd, and could not understand the situation.
“If I were in your place, Collector,” said Claudet, in an insinuating manner, “I should climb up there, to see—”
But Justin Boucheseiche was not a climber. He called a youngster, who followed the hunt as beater-up.
“I will give you ten sous,” said he; “to mount that tree and bring me my squirrel!”
The young imp did not need to be told twice. In the twinkling of an eye he threw his arms around the tree, and reached the fork. When there, he uttered an exclamation.
“Well?” cried the collector; impatiently, “throw him down!”
“I can’t, Monsieur,” replied the boy, “the squirrel is fastened by a wire.” Then the laughter burst forth more boisterously than before.
“A wire, you young rascal! Are you making fun of me?” shouted Boucheseiche, “come down this moment!”
“Here he is, Monsieur,” replied the lad, throwing himself down with the squirrel which he tossed at the collector’s feet.
When Boucheseiche verified the fact that the squirrel was a stuffed specimen, he gave a resounding oath.