"What is to be done now?" inquired Archie. "We don't want to stand here in the rain much longer."
"We must wait until he flies into the woods, or somewhere else, so that we can get a shot at him."
"I can make him fly. I've killed squirrels further off than that, many a time. Suppose I shoot at him?"
"Shoot away; but you must remember that an owl and a squirrel are two different things. The thick feathers of the owl will glance a charge of shot that would blow a squirrel to pieces."
Archie made no reply, but crawled up behind a thick cluster of currant-bushes that grew close by the fence, and, thrusting his gun between the branches, was settling himself into a comfortable position, when the owl suddenly leaped from his perch, and flew off toward the woods, as Frank had said he would, "like a streak of lightning," followed by the whole flock of his tormentors, which screamed with all their might.
"Now's our time," said Frank. "Come on!"
And, clearing the fence at a bound, he started across the meadow at the top of his speed. Archie followed close at his heels, and a few minutes run brought them to the edge of the woods.
"Now the hunt begins in earnest," said Frank, "We must separate; we shall make too much noise if we go together."
"Where's the owl?" inquired Archie.
"As near as I can guess, he must be in that tall hemlock," answered Frank, pointing through the woods toward the tree in question.