"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.
"Come here and get the rifle, if you want to shoot," insisted Tom.
Harry looked about as queer as he felt, for a moment.

Then, picking up a piece of branch that had blown from a tree, Hazelton shied it at the rabbit, which promptly scampered away.
"That's much the better way to go hunting," nodded Dick approvingly.
After that no more was said about hunting.