simple if it
were ever given."

Guy was impatient to test the power and accuracy of his birthday
present. He painted a bull's-eye on a piece of board, with rings
numbered 1, 2, 3, each about two inches wide, and then the question
was to find a suitable place for practice.

"It's a beastly cold wind outside," he said; "I know what we'll do.
We'll hang it up in the tool-house. Come on, Ida and Elsie; we'll all
have a try."

[Illustration: IDA]

The elder sister responded readily, but Elsie hung back, made some
excuse, and went off in another direction.

"What a little noodle she's becoming!" remarked Ida to Brian, as Guy
proceeded to hang up the target. "I believe, for some reason or other,
she's taken it into her head to be afraid to go inside this tool-house.
She won't go near it, not even in broad daylight."

"Let's go and bring her," suggested Guy.

"Oh, I shouldn't," answered Brian. "You'll never cure her that way. The
best thing is to leave her alone, and take no notice. She'll get over it
in time."

The air-pistol was great fun. Ida proved as good a shot as either of the
boys, and it was difficult to decide which could lay claim to being the
best marksman of the three.

"We'll have six shots each, firing in turn," said Guy. "Ida shall begin,
and I'll put down the scores on this bit of paper."

The contest was an exciting one. Ida, unfortunately, missed the target
twice, and so got behind the others, but Brian and Guy were so close
together that it remained for the last shot to show which had won the
first place. Brian fired, and the little steel dart struck close to the
bull's-eye.

"Now, then!" cried Guy, reloading the pistol. "I must take extra good
aim this time and get a bull. Oh, bother!"

He had been standing looking at the target as he spoke, and holding the
pistol with the muzzle pointing upwards. Incautiously his finger had
tightened on the trigger, with the result that the little weapon suddenly
went off.

"O Guy, you should be more careful!" exclaimed Ida. "You might have hurt
somebody."

"Hang it all!" muttered her brother. "Now I've lost the dart."

"There it is," said Brian--"straight over your head."

He pointed as he spoke to a little red tuft that showed the dart was
firmly embedded in one of the beams which supported the roof.

"Good business!" cried Guy. "We'll soon have it down. Ida, drag over
that old chest, and if Brian will stand on it with me hoisted on to his
should