"I—-I tried to, but the gu—-gun wouldn't go off. I—-I had it wrong end to."
Dad relaxed his grip on the fat boy's arm and sat down heavily.
"Of all the tarnal idiots—-of all! Professor, if we don't tie that boy to a tree he'll be killing us all with his fool ways. Why, you baby, you ain't fit to carry a pop-gun. By the way, where is your gun?"
"I—-I guess, I lost it up—-up there," stammered Stacy.
Dad started for the top of the rise in long strides, Chunky gazing after him in a dazed sort of way.
"I—-I guess I did make a fool of myself, didn't I, Professor?" he mourned.
"I am inclined to think you did—-several different varieties of them," answered Professor Zepplin in a tone of disgust.
CHAPTER XV
THE MYSTERY OF THE RIFLE
"I can't help it, I saw a lion, anyway," muttered the fat boy.