A brief interval of silence followed, and then, bang! went Boxy’s gun, before he had had time to take anything like a correct aim.
The shot spread out over the fox’s head, and caused him to leap to one side in alarm.
“Didn’t I hit him?” cried Boxy.
Bang! went Harry’s gun. His aim was better than Boxy’s, and off limped the fox on three legs, the left hind one having received part of the charge of shot.
“You hit him, even if I didn’t!” yelled Boxy. “But he’ll get away from us, I’m afraid!”
“Hurry and load up!” cried Harry. “We can get him if we try.”
They reloaded the guns with all possible speed, running after the fox as they did so. It was hard work with the skates on their feet, and just as they got the animal again in sight Boxy tripped and went down on his knees in a hollow.
His gun went off as he tumbled, and the shot grazed the fox’s neck, causing a painful wound.
The animal let out a yelp of rage, and turned to leap down into the very hollow into which Boxy had tumbled.
“Shoot him, Harry!” cried the boy, in sudden terror. “He’s coming after me!”