“Have you taken my rifle away, father?”
“Your rifle? No! Why?”
“It isn’t hanging on the pegs with the others.”
“Nonsense! Perhaps you did not look in the right place. Let’s see.”
Sir James led the way to where a number of pegs had been driven into the old wall beneath the canvas roof.
“They are not all there, certainly,” he said. “Perhaps the doctor has taken yours by mistake.”
“No; he has got his own.”
“Mark, my boy, I’m afraid you have had it out somewhere and left it standing up against a rock or tree—forgotten it.”
“Oh, father,” cried the boy excitedly, “I am sure I haven’t! I had it last night, cleaned it and oiled it carefully, and then put it back in its place.”
“Are you sure? Last night?”