feeling that there was something repellent and threatening in the heavy
blue steel.

Thus does the long-dreamed Real misbehave--not only for Penrod!

More out of a sense of duty to bingism in general than for any other
reason, he pointed the revolver at the lawn-mower, and gloomingly
murmured, "Bing!"

Simultaneously, a low and cautious voice sounded from the yard outside,
"Yay, Penrod!" and Sam Williams darkened the doorway, his eye falling
instantly upon the weapon in his friend's hand. Sam seemed relieved to
see it.

"You didn't get caught with it, did you?" he said hastily.

Penrod shook his head, rising.

"I guess not! I guess I got _some_ brains around me," he added, inspired
by Sam's presence to assume a slight swagger. "They'd have to get up
pretty early to find any good ole revolaver, once I got _my_ hands on
it!"

"I guess we can keep it, all right," Sam said confidentially. "Because
this morning papa was putting on his winter underclothes and he found it
wasn't there, and they looked all over and everywhere, and he was pretty
mad, and said he knew it was those cheap plumbers stole it that mamma
got instead of the regular plumbers he always used to have, and he said
there wasn't any chance ever gettin' it back, because you couldn't tell
which one took it, and they'd all swear it wasn't them. So it looks like
we could keep it for our revolaver, Penrod, don't it? I'll give you half
of it."

Penrod affected some enthusiasm. "Sam, we'll keep it out here in the
stable."

"Yes, and we'll go huntin' with it. We'll do lots of things with it!"
But Sam made no effort to take it, and neither boy seemed to feel
yesterday's necessity to show the other how he did. "Wait till next
Fourth o' July!" Sam continued. "Oh, oh! Look out!"

This incited a genuine spark from Penrod.

"Fourth o' July! I guess she'll be a little better than any
firecrackers! Just a little 'Bing! Bing! Bing!' she'll be goin'. 'Bing!
Bing! Bing!'"

The suggestion of noise stirred his comrade. "I'll bet she'll go off
louder'n that time the gas-works blew up! I wouldn't be afraid to shoot
her off _any_ time."

"I bet you would," said Penrod. "You aren't used to revolavers the way
I----"

"You aren't, either!" Sam exclaimed promptly. "I wouldn't be any more
afraid to shoot her off than you would."

"You would, too!"

"I would not!"

"Well, let's see you then; you talk so much!" And Penrod handed the
weapon scornfully to Sam, who at