A moment later he returned
from the hall with the double-barrelled gun.
"What now, Webb?" cried Burt, on the _qui vive_. "You will make Amy
think we are attacked by Indians."
"If you are not afraid of the cold, get your gun, and I think I can give
you some sport, and, for a wonder, make you useful also," Webb replied.
"While you were careering this afternoon I examined the young trees in
the nursery, and found that the rabbits were doing no end of mischief. It
has been so cold, and the snow is so deep, that the little rascals are
gathering near the house. They have gnawed nearly all the bark off the
stems of some of the trees, and I doubt whether I can save them. At first
I was puzzled by their performances. You know, father, that short nursery
row grafted with our seedling apple, the Highland Beauty? Well, I found
many of the lower twigs taken off with a sharp, slanting cut, as if they
had been severed with a knife, and I imagined that a thrifty neighbor had
resolved to share in our monopoly of the new variety, but I soon discovered
that the cuttings had been made too much at random to confirm the
impression that some one had been gathering scions for grafting. Tracks on
the snow, and girdled trees, soon made it evident that rabbits were the
depredators. One of the little pests must have climbed into a bushy tree at
least eighteen inches from the snow, in order to reach the twigs I found
cut.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50