That Little Beggar

by Edith King Hall

"Yes," said the little beggar, very proud of himself.

"Let's see; that's right," his uncle continued.

"Now, fire!... Not bad, only you should keep your arm steadier. It wobbled about too much."

"It's very tired," Chris remarked.

Then he inquired: "Uncle Godfrey, may I shoot some wicked men?"

"Certainly, when you find them—and with that gun," he answered.

"Only in the legs," added Chris, "'cause it would be unkind to kill them really, wouldn't it? But I may shoot their legs, so that they can be caught, and can't run away; mayn't I?"

"As much as you like, I say, with that gun," his uncle replied, as he resumed his neglected correspondence.

"I shall shoot a lot," Chris said, with satisfaction.

"Granny," he went on eagerly as he entered the hall, "I'm going to shoot some wicked men. Uncle Godfrey says I may."