The little fellow, scared out of a warm spot in the grove, or perhaps out foraging for something green to eat, was getting across the surface of the snow in a hurry.
Crack! Bang! Crack! Bang!
Each of these boys had pulled his firearm around at sight of the streak of motion, almost the color of the snow. And each of them had pulled down a quick bead on the animal; letting fly two bullets and two doses of shot.
“Came close!” called Frank, for the snow spat upward in several spots just ahead of or to one side of the rabbit, but the little fellow kept on and disappeared in the next grove.
“First shot of the expedition,” Buster Billings said. “I came nearest because I shot first.”
This brought a laugh from the other boys. For it was difficult to tell who had fired first.
“That was good work, fellows,” said Frank. “All four of us, from an unexpected start, got our rifles and shotguns into action at about the same time.”
The rabbit was safe somewhere else, they had shown to themselves that they knew how to get into action, and the boys trooped on through the snow even happier than they had been.
The sun was not shining, yet the morning was brighter than the day before, and the snow was falling less hard.
“Wonder what these footprints are,” remarked Lanky, who was slightly in the lead, with Frank close behind him.