"Sonny, you can always be a sportsman--a sportsman does things because he likes them, Bobby, for no other reason--not for money, nor to become famous, nor even to win--and a right man does not get pleasure in doing a thing if in any way he takes an unfair advantage--if _you_--not the thinking you, nor even the conscience you, but the way-down-deep-in-your heart _you_ that you can't fool nor trick nor lie to--if that _you_ is satisfied, it's all right." Bobby sighed deeply and went downstairs. XXVII THE SPORTSMAN He opened the door and entered very quietly, so that neither occupant of the room saw him before he spoke. "I heard what you said--through the register----" he explained. "But I can't take the shotgun." Both men turned and looked at him curiously, the first natural exclamations stilled on their lips by the sight of his straight, earnest little figure facing them. "Why not, Bobby?" asked Mr. Orde at last. "I was the one who fired that shot that hit Mr. Laughton's head. I did it a-purpose." "What for?" "I saw something brown in the brush, and I was sure it was a partridge, so I shot at it. I really didn't know it was a partridge. It just looked brown. You told me not to do that, lots of times, but I got all excited, and forgot. So you see I'm not careful, like you said. I ought not to have any shotgun." "Oh, Bobby!" said Mr. Kincaid. "And that's one of the most important things of all!" "I know, sir," said Bobby. "That's why I thought I'd tell you." The two men examined the youngster for some time in silence. A very tender look lurked back in their eyes. "What did you do then?" asked Mr. Orde at last. "I saw the cap fly up in the air, and ran." "Yes?" "And then after a little I saw Mr. Kincaid come out down below, and I thought it was all right until I got home." "Why did you jump up in court this afternoon?" "I knew where I was standing, and I saw a scar on Laughton's head, and then I knew if the holes in the cap were low down, he must have been the man." "Why didn't you tell all this before?" "I'd never seen the cap; and I thought Mr. Kincaid had done it. I wasn't going to give him away." Both men burst into laughter. "And you thought I'd kill a man!" reproached Mr. Kincaid at last. "I'd have done it--to old Pritchard," maintained Bobby stoutly. After a time Mr. Kincaid returned to the first subject. "There is no doubt, Bobby," said he, "that a man careless enough to shoot at anything without knowing what it is--especially in a settled country--is not fit to have a gun of any kind. There are plenty of people killed every year through just such carelessness. On that ground you are quite right in saying that you do not deserve the new shotgun." "Yes, sir," said Bobby.