"I wish we could, Buddy," said Robert; "but as we cannot do all that today, you must try to think of something else."
Frank could think of nothing. Robert suggested that he might spend part of his birthday in learning to shoot.
"But I can shoot now," he replied. "Sister and I have shot many times already since we came to the island."
"I mean," said Robert, "that you should learn to use a gun, so as to kill whatever you wish."
"O, yes," said Frank, "I should like that very much. For who knows but some old bear or panther may come after sister or me yet, before we get away."
"O, as for bears," Robert maliciously remarked, "I think you will never need a gun. I think you will always find a tree."
Frank's face reddened as he returned, "I don't care if I did, sir. Cousin Harold knows that I did exactly right. Didn't I, cousin?"
"Pardon me, Frank," Robert implored, "I did not suppose that you felt so sore about that climbing. I only said it to teaze you. I am sure I should have done exactly as you did. But I can't help laughing to think how your feet twinkled, as you climbed that tree."
Robert well knew that this half apology would be satisfactory. Frank prided himself on his nimbleness, being so lithe and active that his playmates used to call him "squirrel." The allusion to his "twinkling" feet restored him to good humour.
"Now, Frank," said Robert, beginning his lecture with the gun in hand, "the first lesson I wish to teach you is this, never let the muzzle of your gun point to yourself, or to any person, and never allow any person to point one towards you. A gun can never kill where it does not point. Even when you are loading, or walking, be careful to hold it so, that if it should go off it could hurt nothing."