In the midst of his revery a sound from outside startled him. It was the hooting of an owl, and so close that the mournful sound made Shadow shiver.
"I'd like to shoot that owl," he told himself, as the hooting continued. "If I brought him down I could have him stuffed," he thought, with some satisfaction.
Shadow looked at the motionless form on the couch, and then arising from the stool, tiptoed his way into the big living-room of the bungalow. One of the windows was wide open, and he looked out of this to see if he could locate the owl. The hooting was now closer than before and seemed to come from a tree not twenty-five feet away.
"Say, there's a chance for a shot," murmured the youth to himself. "If I could only spot that owl I'm sure I could——"
Thump! Shadow received a staggering blow in the back of the neck, and then felt himself hurled to one side, while the shotgun was wrenched from his grasp. Then, before he could recover from his astonishment, a figure leaped through the open window and dashed across the moonlit dooryard.
"Hi! Stop!" yelled Shadow, as soon as he could recover his breath. "Stop! Help!"
"What's the racket?" The cry came from Roger, and then he and Dave burst into the room, followed by Phil.
"Merwell! He's escaped! He got the gun away from me, and jumped through the window!" panted poor Shadow. "Oh, what a fool I was to think he was asleep!"
"Where did he go?" questioned Dave, and at the same time bounded back into the bedroom, to don his shoes and part of his clothing.
"He jumped out of the window with the gun. That's all I know about it," answered Shadow.