McKay struck the fat boy's revolver just in time to prevent getting a bullet through his own body. Over yonder the professor lay flat on the ground with a frightened look on his face, shouting at the top of his voice.
"Hold him! Hold him! He'll have us all riddled!"
"Wha—-what's the matter?" demanded Stacy looking around innocently.
"Matter? See what you have done."
"Di—-did I wing the professor?" questioned the fat boy innocently.
"Did you wing him!" jeered Tad Butler.
"Come here, young man. But leave that pistol behind you," commanded Professor Zepplin. "I think we will equip you with a small bow and a blunt arrow after this. Even. then I fear our eyes will be in danger. Do you see what you did?"
One of Stacy's bullets had bored a hole through the crown of the professor's sombrero. The other had plowed a neat furrow through Professor Zepplin's grizzled whiskers, close to the chin.
"Ho, ho, ho! Haw, haw, haw!" roared the fat boy with head thrown back as far as it would go without dislocating his neck.