with his eye, then glanced across the room.

"Why," he exclaimed, going over to the opposite wall, "here is the
mark of the bullet--here is the bullet itself, deep in the wood.
That shot went off from the middle of your bed, lad."

Eustace looked incredulous, Mrs. Orban horrified. It was awful to
think that the boy had been in such danger. The man who had fired
that first alarming shot was close to him, perhaps bending over
him, when inadvertently the weapon had gone off! The mother could
picture it only too vividly, and she felt sick at the thought of
the ghastly peril.

"But what happened to the man?" questioned Eustace. "I was awake in
a minute, and must have seen him."

"Not if he ducked under the bed," suggested Mrs. Orban. "He must
have been there when you came to me, and made his escape the
instant you were out of the way."

"Much more likely if he had knocked the youngster on the head to
silence him," argued Robertson, as he stood toying with Mr. Orban's
revolver. "I don't think that story will wash."

Quite suddenly the man threw back his head and laughed aloud.

"I have it," he said. "Eustace, you young rascal, what a scare you
have given us!"

"I!" exclaimed Eustace, with a touch of indignation in his tone.

"Yes, you," was the reply. "Why, you fired that first shot
yourself; I'll bet you anything you did. You only shot once at the
dingo--there are two chambers empty in this revolver. Come, own up;
where was the revolver when you went to sleep?"

Eustace flushed crimson as the realization flooded his mind.

"It was in my hand when I jumped out of bed," he said. "I--I do
believe I went to sleep holding it. I dropped off suddenly."

He remembered how inexplicably queer and shaken he had felt when he
awoke. Now he came to think of it, he had been strangely jarred. A
mere sound could scarcely have accounted for the feeling.

"Well, that clears the whole mystery, then," said Robertson. "There
is no one lurking about the house, and there hasn't been anything
to be frightened about--except that you might have shot your own
foot through, and lamed yourself for life."

"He might have killed himself," said Mrs. Orban seriously. "It was
a terribly dangerous thing to do."

She said nothing more, for it was evident Eustace felt very small
and uncomfortable. It was the tamest possible ending to what had
promised to be such a stirring adventure--such a tale to tell!

Presently, when he was left alone to