My "gang" used to go to the "Willer Wudz" (Grimsby pronunciation) and get branches to make bows and arrows.
One Sunday morning two of us were sitrting on a wall when a slightly older boy (I was 10) came towards us with his baby brother in a pram. "You be a stagecoach and we'll be the Indians" said I. I let an "arrow" go.
It hit him in the eye and could have blinded him. My father apologized to his parents, clouted me and smashed my bow and arrows to matchwood as I watched tearfully.
47 years later I still regret incident but I can honestly say it was one of the few malicious acts I have ever performed.