“Jumerlacky! Why, I can fetch a squrl when he is outer sight with this old gun.”
“How do you aim at him?” I inquired, smiling at his earnestness.
“I just git me a hicker nut hull, with the print where a squrl’s been a cuttin’, and rub it in the shot, and when I fire, don’t keer which way I takes sight, the shot goes right arter the squrl what cut the nut, and all I got to do is to look roun’ and see what tree he’s a gwine to fall from.”
I expressed a great desire to see his gun perform, and asked if he had killed any that morning without seeing them.
“Not ‘zactly,” he replied, changing his squirrels from one hand to the other; “but one run up such a high tree he got t’other side of a cloud.”
“How did you get at him?”
“Jus’ shot wher he went thew; when he drapped he was right smarten wet, an’ it rained purtty peart thew the shot holes in the cloud.”
“Which one of those was it?” I asked, pointing to the bunch in his hand.
“This here biggest un,” he said, holding him up by the tail.
“Why, he doesn’t seem to be wet now?”