But a visit to the mate’s room resulted in the discovery of nothing more formidable than a pair of ancient cutlasses, hung crosswise on the wall. The professor and Mr. Tubbs helped themselves to these, the latter flourishing his in a truly awe-inspiring manner.
“How do you like the weapon?” asked Nat, who, despite the seriousness of their position, could not forbear smiling at the moving-picture man’s antics.
“Man alive!” rejoined Mr. Tubbs, “I only wish that it was possible to get a moving picture of ourselves going into action.”
“Now then, Joe,” said Nat, when they had scoured the cabin unsuccessfully for any more weapons, “it’s time for you to try your stunt.”
Joe ascended the stairs and carefully placed the muzzle of the blunderbuss in position under the spot where he was certain the lock was situated.
“All ready?” asked Nat in a strained whisper.
“All right here,” responded Joe, his finger crooking on the rusty trigger.
“Then let her go!” came the command.
But before Joe could press the bit of steel which he hoped would discharge the gun, there came a startling interruption.
Bang!