Bob, being thus chosen as a committee of one, went into the other room, from which he soon returned with a look on his face that told the whole story.
"Nothing doing, boys," he announced briefly. "Dad said that if I were a little older he might take a chance, but he's afraid just now to let me handle a pistol or a rifle."
The boys groaned in sympathy.
"We might make blowguns though," said Bob, brightening up. "They say you can learn to shoot with them just as well as with a rifle."
It was an unlucky reference, as Bob saw as soon as he had spoken.
"Just like a putty blower," suggested Frank.
"Bob won't need any practice," remarked Sammy, as he and Frank bore down on their victim.
There was a good-natured scuffle as Sammy and Frank rolled Bob over and over on the carpet. Then Mrs. Bouncer's smiling face appeared at the door, and she drove the madcap lads off to bed.