“There’s a notion he ain’t been tellin’ the whole gol blamed truth ’bout that there shootin’ an’ I’m here ter kinder look over the matter, as the feller says.” “Did you come here to charge my son with lying?” “Well, as you might say, _no_.I come here ter charge him with bein’ a little rascal of a prince. But _of_ course if I thought he was a liar I’d tell ’im so and I’d tell you so. Jes the same as if I thought you was a fool or a liar I’d tell yer so.” “Isn’t he perfectly splendid,” Doris whispered in her mother’s ear. “Isn’t he picturesque? Oh, I think he’s just adorable.” “Well, now, my man,” said Mr. Martin, considerably jarred by his caller’s frank declaration, “what is it? I think I’ve heard of you and I think if it wasn’t for you that murderous toy wouldn’t be locked up in that closet there.” Ira glanced toward the family dungeon. “As I understand it, from what Mrs. Nelson says, you got my boy’s head full of nonsense and he ran amuck. He told the truth and confessed it and lost a hundred dollars and his gun and a trip out west. And the gun’s locked up in that closet where it will never do any more harm. It will never shoot any more deer in season or out of season—I suppose you’ve shot them both ways.” “Yes, sir, I have,” drawled Ira, “but I never used more than one gun at a time; I never dropped an animal with two different kinds of bullets like your boy did——” Mr. Martin looked surprised. “I was thinkin’,” said Ira, not giving Mr. Martin a chance to comment upon this mystery, “that maybe not knowin’ much ’bout guns and bein’ sceered of ’em—I can always mostly spot folks that’s daffy ’bout firearms—I was thinking maybe you was just crazy fool enough when you was mad ter lock that murderous toy up while it was loaded. _Of_ course if you done that you can’t exactly say it won’t do no more harm.” This was exactly what Mr. Martin had done and a titter from his daughter reminded him that he was at a slight disadvantage. “I’d like ter see whether both shots has been fired outer that gun,” Ira drawled on. “I’d jes kind of sorter like to look it over. And while I’m at it, I’ll take out the cartridge that I think is still in it. Then it can’t bite. Maybe I’ll be able ter tell yer somethin’ or other when I get through. Now you jes get that gun out without any more foolin’ around or else yer don’t deserve ter be the father o’ that kid. Get it out an’ don’t waste no more time; them gents is startin’ a meetin’ up yonder.” CHAPTER XXVIII PROOFS Ira Hasbrook took no notice of the tribute paid him by the mother and daughter and father who clustered about him evidently not in the least afraid of the gun now that it was in his hands. Even Mr. Martin contemplated it without a quiver. Upon the library table lay one cartridge. The other had done its good turn.