"What is 'chokee'?" asked Chris, with wide-open eyes.
"Oh, prison! You'll be put into a cell, and have nothing to eat but bread and cold water."
"How drefful!"
"Then go and get that little gun I bought you, and I'll show you how to hold it as you should."
"Just like a real soldier?"
"Well, how else?
"Now, look here," said Uncle Godfrey, when Chris returned with the gun, "didn't I tell you that it was very dangerous to hold a gun like that? It's not sportsmanlike either. Do you hear?"
He spoke with some severity, for he was a young man who was very thorough in all he did, whether work or play, and would tolerate no carelessness.
"Not sports-man-like!" echoed Chris slowly, trying hard with his child's voice to imitate Uncle Godfrey's manly tone.
"Then, as you hear, remember," his uncle said, authoritatively. "Now, rest the gun against your right shoulder—you young duffer, that's your left shoulder; I said your right. Shut your left eye, and aim at my hand."