“I think I’ll have a look at the post office and larn what mischief the villain done there.”
He veered in his course and came to the back window, where a light showed that some persons were gathered. He found mother, daughter and the three boys, who gave him warm greeting.
“Was that your gun we heard a little while ago?” asked the woman.
“I reckon it must have been,” replied Mr. Buxton, who declined the invitation to enter and remained standing outside the window.
“Did you hit the burglar?” asked Alvin.
“Young man,” said Mr. Buxton loftily, “when I fire at anything I always hit it.”
“You didn’t kill him, Gerald!” exclaimed the horrified mother.
“No; I just winged him so he won’t forget it if he lives a thousand years; don’t like to kill a scamp even if he is a burglar.”
“Where’s your gun?” continued Alvin.
The man glanced around as if it were hidden somewhere about his garments.