“Come back!” said the Duke, “don't be a fool! Come back, he'll shoot you dead!”
Moore paid no heed to him, but stood waiting at the door. In a few moments Bruce blazed away again at the stovepipe. Immediately the Pilot burst in, calling out eagerly:
“Did you get him?”
“No!” said Bruce, disappointedly, “he dodged like the devil, as of course he ought, you know.”
“I'll get him,” said Moore. “Smoke him out,” proceeding to open the stove door.
“Stop!” screamed Bruce, “don't open that door! It's full, I tell you.” Moore paused. “Besides,” went on Bruce, “smoke won't touch 'em.”
“Oh, that's all right,” said Moore, coolly and with admirable quickness, “wood smoke, you know—they can't stand that.”
This was apparently a new idea in demonology for Bruce, for he sank back, while Moore lighted the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He looked round for the tea-caddy.
“Up there,” said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and pointing to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf.
Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce.