“Where is he?” she demanded of Natalie.
“There—there—he was trying to crawl under the tent! Oh, shoot!”
Something spurted from the muzzle of the odd little revolver, and a moment later there were other kinds of screams.
“Oh, my eyes!”
“My nose!”
“Oh, what awful stuff!”
“A-ker-choo” some one sneezed.
“Will it explode from the flame of the lantern?”
“Oh, Mrs. Bonnell! You aimed it right at me!”
“Did I, my dear? I guess my hand must have shaken. Oh, but it is powerful; isn’t it?”