They had hardly commenced their search of that worthy’s room, before a shout from Joe announced that he had made a discovery. It was nothing more nor less than a pistol in a case. On the wall, too, apparently as an ornament, hung an aged and rusty looking blunderbuss.
“Hurray!” cried Nat; “that’s something, anyhow. Professor, you take the pistol and I’ll——”
“If it’s all the same to you,” interrupted the man of science, “I had a good deal rather you boys took the weapons. I am short-sighted, and I know that my friend Tubbs is not over familiar with firearms——”
“Except in a shooting gallery at Coney Island,” put in Mr. Tubbs apologetically.
“Very well, sir,” said Nat. “Joe will take the blunderbuss and I’ll carry the pistol. Wonder if that old blunderbore is loaded, anyhow?”
“I’ve got an idea for testing it,” said Joe.
“What’s that?”
“Look here, why wouldn’t it be a good idea to place the muzzle of this ferocious weapon to the door at the point where we think the lock is located? If it is loaded, it’s pretty sure to have enough slugs in it to carry away the lock, and the rest we’ll have to chance to luck.”
“That’s a good suggestion, too. At any rate, it won’t do any harm to try it. We can’t be worse off, unless that rascally captain makes us walk the plank or something, and he wouldn’t dare to do that, I guess.”
“Let’s see if there aren’t some more shooting-irons lying round loose,” suggested Mr. Tubbs; “seems to me that mate always had some in his room.”