Suddenly Hiram looked up from the grain in his hand. Battick had made a strange move. He had set the skillet down on the hearth and was reaching for the shotgun. His eyes seemed to glow and a deep flush was diffused over the man's forbidding looking countenance. Hiram Strong was amazed and startled at his host's appearance. "What is the matter, Mr. Battick?" cried the visitor. "What are you doing with that gun?" for the man had seized it now. "Hush!" hissed Yancey Battick. "I think I see a rat!" CHAPTER III INVENTOR'S LUCK The thought had been impressed upon Hiram Strong's mind from the very first that there was something altogether wrong with Yancey Battick. His wild eyes and excited manner now convinced the visitor that this suspicion was correct. Battick was not altogether sane. And when he reached for that rock-salt loaded shotgun the visitor prepared to defend himself. The muzzle of the gun swung toward Hiram. The latter slid out of his chair and darted sideways just as Battick rose up with the butt of the gun at his shoulder. The muzzle seemed closely following Hiram's movements. Then the man's finger pressed the trigger and the gun roared. It seemed that the wind of the charge passed over Hiram's head. "What under the sun are you doing?" demanded the youth, leaping up and facing the householder. "What did you move for?" retorted Battick. "I might have got you instead of the rat." "The rat?" repeated Hiram in some doubt. Battick returned the smoking shotgun to its rack and crossed the room to the workbench. Under it, deep in the shadow of the corner, he found his game--a fat, gray rat, still kicking. "Great Scott!" murmured the boy from the East, "it really was a rat." "What did you think I would be shooting in this old house?" growled Battick. "It's rat-ridden. They give me no peace. They have cost me more--well, no use going into that," said the man, and so concluded. But Hiram Strong was now immensely interested in this strange individual. His fright because of Mr. Battick's reckless use of his shotgun was soon over. The rats about this ancient cottage certainly were very bold. But there must be--there was--a particular reason why the man was afraid of the rats. This fear of which Hiram had first heard from Jason Oakley, the stationmaster, was not merely some idiosyncrasy of Battick's. "Have you tried poison for the vermin?" Hiram demanded. "I've tried everything," replied the man gruffly. "What makes them so bold?" "The place was overrun with them when I came on it four years ago. I can't keep anything in the barn. Why, they have eaten a good buggy harness on me! I have to keep my harnesses in my bedroom. I've got an alarm clock in there and it ticks so loud that it scares them off, I guess. And, then, I snore. That must keep the creatures on the move."