Just as he was leaving, he stopped, and leaning out of the wagon, said: “Marse Gus, don’t yo’ shoot any ole hyahs down dere. I takes my gun down wid me when I goes down atter my cow. Dem buds flies too fas’ for me, but I kin manage to shoot a ole hyah if I ketch one settin’ in de baid.”
The promise was given and was kept by the hunters until they were about to stop for lunch. Just then a fine hare jumped up in front of Marse Gus, and gave him a fair shot. In his ardor he fired at it and knocked it over. At that moment old Robin was heard calling to them to come on up to the house as “snack was ready.”
“There!” said Gus, as he picked up the hare, “now I’ve gone and killed this hare, and that old man will never forgive me.”
“Take it and give it to him for his wife,” said his friend.
“Oh, no!” he said, “you don’t know old Robin; he will never forgive me.”
“Well, put it down in the bottom of your game-bag; he will never know the difference,” said his friend. And this was shamelessly done.
They were greeted by the old man cheerfully, with “You must have got plenty of buds, I heard you shoot so much?”
“Oh, yes, we had very good luck!” said the huntsmen.
“You didn’t shoot any ole hyahs?” he inquired confidently.
The silence aroused his suspicion, and, turning, he shot a keen glance at his master, which took in the well-filled game-bag.