The Triumph Of Guy
The boys had hunted the Woodchuck quite regularly since first meeting it. Their programme
was much the same—each morning about nine or ten they would sneak out to the clover field. It was usually Guy who first discovered the old Grizzly, then all would fire a harmless shot, the Woodchuck would scramble into his den and the incident be closed for the day. This became as much a part of the day's routine as getting breakfast, and much more so than the washing of the dishes. Once or twice the old Grizzly had narrow escapes, but so far he was none the worse, rather the better, being wiser. The boys, on the other hand, gained nothing, with the possible exception of Guy. Always quick-sighted, his little washed-out optics developed a marvellous keenness. At first it was as often Yan or Sam who saw the old Grizzly, but later it was always Guy.
One morning Sam approached the game from one point, Guy and Yan from another some yards away. "No Woodchuck!" was the first opinion, but suddenly Guy called "I see him." There in a little hollow
fully sixty yards from his den, and nearly a hundred from the boys, concealed in a bunch of clover, Guy saw a patch of gray fur hardly two inches square. "That's him, sure."
[430] Yan could not see it at all. Sam saw but doubted. An instant later the Woodchuck (for it was he) stood up on his hind legs, raised his chestnut breast above the clover, and settled all doubt.
"By George!" exclaimed Yan in admiration. "That is great. You have the most wonderful eyes I ever did see. Your name ought to be 'Hawkeye'—that should be your name."
"All right," shrilled out Guy enthusiastically. "Will you—will you, Sam, will you call me Hawkeye? I think you ought to," he added pleadingly.