“No. What are you doing? Stringing me?”
“Oh, no, sir; oh, no! Now, once again. If they chanced to fling said revolver far to the left, where would it land?”
“Why—in that big bed of ferns—if they threw it far enough.”
“Looked there?”
“No; I haven’t.”
“C’mon, let’s take a squint.”
Fibsy rose and lounged over toward the fern bed, Burdon following, almost certain he was being made game of.
CHAPTER XII
THE GARAGE FIRE
“Now, watch me,” he said, and with a quick thrust of his arm down among the ferns, he drew forth a revolver, which he turned over to Burdon.
“Land o’ goodness!” exclaimed that worthy. “Howja know it was there?”