The rest of the hunters had drawn back in a circle, and were exchanging sly glances. The collector loaded his gun, shouldered it, covered the squirrel, and then let go.
"Hit!" exclaimed he, triumphantly, as soon as the smoke had dispersed.
In fact, the animal had slid down the branch, head first, but, somehow, he did not fall to the ground.
"He has caught hold of something," said the notary, facetiously.
"Ah! you will hold on, you rascal, will you?" shouted Boucheseiche, beside himself with excitement, and the next moment he sent a second shot, which sent the hair flying in all directions.
The creature remained in the same position. Then there was a general roar.
"He is quite obstinate!" remarked the clerk, slyly.
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.