"There's a rabbit," called Harry softly, pointing.
"Bless me, so there is," agreed Tom.
"Well, why don't you shoot it? What are you carrying that air rifle for?"
"To oblige you, I guess," responded Tom, not making any motion to raise the rifle. "If you want to shoot the rabbit, come here and get the rifle."
"If I move it will scare him away," protested Hazelton. "Quick! Get him before he goes off on a run!"
Sighting, Tom raised the rifle, glancing through the sights at the little white furred thing.
"Confound him! He looks too cute for anything," muttered Tom. "I haven't the heart——"
Abruptly Reade lowered the air rifle.
"See here, Harry, if your mouth is watering for rabbit stew you come here and get the gun, and do the shooting yourself. I'd feel like a criminal, taking the life of that cute, innocent little thing!"
"Huh!" growled Harry.