“Yes; one fright would be bigger than the other, and make him come,” said Joses.
“Do you think that if we frightened him, he would try to get back then?” whispered Bart.
“I’m sure of it,” said Joses.
“Do as I do then,” said Bart, as he picked up his rifle. Then speaking loudly he exclaimed:
“Joses; we must not leave the poor fellow there to die of hunger. He can’t get back, so let’s put him out of his misery at once. Where shall I aim at? His heart?”
“No, no, Master Bart; his head. Send a bullet right through his skull, and it’ll be all over at once. You fire first.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Bart rested the barrel of his rifle against the trunk, took careful aim, and fired so that the bullet whistled pretty closely by Sam’s ear.
The man started and shuddered, seeming as if he were going to sit up, but he relapsed into the former position. “I think I can do it, Master Bart, this time,” said Joses; and laying his piece in a notch formed by the bark, he took careful aim, and fired, his bullet going through Sam’s hat, and carrying it off to go fluttering down into the abyss.
This time Sam did not move, and Bart gazed at Joses in despair.
“He’s too artful, Master Bart,” whispered the latter: “he knows we are only doing it to frighten him. I don’t know how to appeal to his feelings, unless I was to say, ‘here’s your old wife a-coming, Sam,’ for he run away from her ten years ago. But it wouldn’t be no good. He wouldn’t believe it.”