Witching Hill
row?--then, Gilly,it's a case of that 'big blue mark in his forehead and the back blownout of his head!'"

"That wasn't a revolver," said I, for he had taught me to worship hismodern god of letters; "that was the Snider that 'squibbed in thejungle.'"

Delavoye looked it up in his paper-covered copy.

"Quite right, Gilly!" said he. "But what price this from the very nextpiece?    "'So long as those unloaded guns
      We keep beside the bed,
    Blow off, by obvious accident,
      The lucky owner's head.'"

That's a bit more like it than the big blue mark, eh? And my giftedauthor is the boy who can handle these little dears better than anybodyelse in the class; he don't only use 'em for moral suasion under arms,but he makes you smell the blood and hear the thunder!"

Colonel Cheffins seemed to have had enough at last; he rose to go withrather a perfunctory laugh, and I jumped up to see him out on the pleaof something I had to say about his damaged door and window.

"For God's sake, sir, get your revolver back from him!" was what Iwhispered down below. "He's not himself. He hasn't been his own man forover a year. Get it back from him before he takes a turn for the worseand--and----"

"I know what you mean," said the colonel, "but I don't believe it's asbad as you think. I'll see what I can do. I might say I've smashed theother, but I mustn't say it too soon or he'll smell a rat. I must leavehim to you meanwhile, Mr. Gillon, but I honestly believe it's all talk."

And so did I as the dapper little coach smiled cheerily under the halllamp, and I shut the door on him and ran up to Uvo's room two steps at atime. But on the threshold I fell back, for an instant, as though thataccursed revolver covered me; for he was seated at his desk, his back tothe room, his thumb on the trigger--and the muzzle in his right ear.

I crept upon him and struck it upwards with a blow that sent the weaponflying from his grasp. It had not exploded; it was in my pocket beforehe could turn upon me with a startled oath.

"What are you playing at, my good fellow?" cried he.

"What are _you_?"

And my teeth chattered with the demand.


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