"How's that?" he asked, after the report had died away. "Hit his bearship in the left ear," announced Dave. "Humph! I aimed for his right eye!" The senator's son now tried his luck and managed to hit the representation of a bear in the tail. This made all the lads laugh, and Roger and Phil called on Dave to show his skill. "I don't think this revolver works very well," said the senator's son, handing the weapon to Dave. "The trigger seems to catch in some way." "Oh, don't blame the pistol for your poor shooting, Roger!" cried Phil, good-naturedly. "Well, examine the pistol for yourself, Phil." Dave took the weapon and snapped the trigger. There was no report, and he tried again, aiming at some brushwood not far from the apple tree. The brushwood was close to the back road. "It's all right now, I guess," he said, as the pistol went off with ease. "But that trigger ought to be looked after," he added. "You wouldn't want it to miss fire at a critical moment." He stepped forward and, while Roger swung the representation of a bear, he fired another shot. "Good for you!" exclaimed the senator's son in admiration. "You took him right in the throat, Dave!" "Hold up there! Stop that! Do you hear me, you young rascals! Do you want to kill me?" The call came from the back road, and looking in that direction, the three boys saw a well-dressed man coming toward them on the run. He was carrying a whip, and his face was full of sudden passion. "It's Aaron Poole, Nat's father!" said Dave, as he lowered the pistol in his hand. "I say, are you trying to kill me?" cried the miserly money-lender of Crumville, as he came closer, and he shook his whip at Dave. "Why, no, Mr. Poole," answered Dave, as calmly as he could. "What makes you think that?" "Oh, you needn't play innocent," snarled Aaron Poole. "You just fired a shot at me! It went through my buggy top." And the money-lender pointed to the back road, where stood his horse and carriage. "Nice doings, I must say!" "Mr. Poole, I didn't fire at you," answered Dave. "I didn't know anybody was out there on the road,--and I didn't fire in that direction." "You fired into the bushes, when you tried the pistol," said Roger, in a low voice. "Maybe the bullet went through the bushes," suggested the shipowner's son. "You fired at me--I heard the shot and saw you with the pistol!" stormed Aaron Poole. "I've a good mind to have you arrested!" "Mr. Poole, why should I fire at you?" asked Dave. "I----" "Oh, you needn't try to smooth it over, you young rascal! I know you! You are down on me because I made Caspar Potts pay me what was due, and you are down on my son Nat because he is more popular at Oak Hall than anybody else." "Well, to hear that!" whispered Phil. He knew, as well as did the others, that overbearing Nat Poole had scarcely a friend left at the school the lads attended. On several occasions Nat had tried to harm Dave, but each time he had gotten the worst of it.