“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Merriwell said quickly. “That gun’s loaded, isn’t it?”
“Why, no. I jutht thot it off.”
“Didn’t you have two shells in it?” Dick asked.
The stranger suddenly snatched his hand away with a look of horror.
“Bah Jove!” he cried excitedly. “You’re wight about that. Mercy thakes! I might have thot a hole wight through my hand.”
The thought of his narrow escape seemed to trouble him considerably more than anything which had yet occurred. Dick reached forward, and, picking up the gun, broke it and extracted the shell.
“That’s the safest way,” he said quietly. “It’s much better not to walk through the woods with your gun loaded.”
Holding the shell in his hand, he took out a knife and slit the pasteboard across, exposing the contents.
“There’s what’s inside of it,” he explained, handing it to the stranger.
The latter took it gingerly and inspected it with much curiosity.