"
"Maybe it would if--" rejoined Roy.
"If what?"
"If the gun was loaded, which is most unlikely."
"Well, try it and see," urged Peggy.
"Yes, do," echoed Jimsy; "Peggy's plan sounds like a good idea. Maybe
some hunter left it here and the shells are still in it."
"No harm in finding out anyway," declared Roy.
He struck another match and picked up the gun. It was an antique looking
weapon badly-rusted. But on opening the breech he uttered a cry of joy.
"Good luck!" he exclaimed, "two shells,--one in each barrel."
"Well, put it to the test," urged Jimsy.
"All right. If this fails, though, I don't know what we'll do."
"Don't worry about that now. Try it."
"I'm going to. Don't get peevish."
Roy crossed the room to the door. Raising the gun to his shoulder he
placed the muzzle about opposite to where he thought the padlock must
be located.
"Look out for a big noise, sis," he warned.
Peggy gave a little scream and raised her hands to her ears. She
disliked firearms.
"Ready?" sang out Jimsy.
"All ready," came the reply.
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