The stone hit Jacob Winter in the ear, and the unhappy farmer, with a terrified cry, fell back from the window and lay down on the floor.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Winter?” asked his wife.
“I’m killed!” answered the farmer in agonizing tones, clapping his hand to his injured organ. “The tramp has shot me.”
He was too bewildered to observe that the burglar had no weapon, and really believed for the moment that he had been shot.
Mrs. Winter hastily lit the kerosene lamp and went to the help of her husband.
“Where were you hit?” she asked.
“Here!” answered her husband in a hollow voice. “The bullet must have gone to my brain.”
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up a pebble. “This isn’t a bullet.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“Its only a pebble,” she answered. “You have been hit with a stone.”