"Leave the door open and let me sleep there," said Fred, stoutly.
"Gracious alive, what can you do if they should come?" was the amazed inquiry.
"I don't know as I can do anything, but I can try; I want that old musket that's over the fire-place, too."
"Why, it will go off and kill you."
Fred insisted so strongly, however, that he was allowed to climb upon a chair and take down the antiquated weapon, covered with rust and dust.
When he came to examine it he found that the description he had heard was correct—the ancient flintlock was good for nothing, and the barrel, when last discharged, must have exploded at the breach, for it was twisted and split open, so that a load of powder could only injure the one who might fire it, were such a feat possible.
The sisters showed as much fear of it when it was taken down as though it were in good order, primed and cocked, and they begged the lad to restore it to its place as quickly as possible.
But he seemed to think he had charge of the business for the evening, and, bidding them good-night, he took his candle and went to his room, which he had occupied once or twice before.
It may well be asked what young Fred Sheldon expected to do with such a useless musket, should emergency arise demanding a weapon.
Indeed, the boy would have found it hard to tell himself, excepting that he hoped to scare the man or men away by the pretence of a power which he did not possess.