"Yes, you did! You tried to shoot a hole through me!"

"Tell me about it?" suggested Tom, as the excited man calmed down
somewhat. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but it isn't your fault that I'm not. You tried hard enough to
hurt me. Here I am, sitting at my table reading, and, all at once
something goes through the side of the house, whizzes past my ear,
makes my hair fairly stand up on end, and goes outside the other
side of the house. What kind of bullets do you use, Tom Swift?
that's what I want to know. They went through the side of my house,
and never left a mark. I demand to know what kind they are."

"I'll tell you, if you'll only give me a chance," went on Tom
wearily. "How do you know it was me shooting?"

"How do I know? Why, doesn't the end of this shooting gallery of
yours point right at my house? Of course it does; you can't deny
it!"

Tom did not attempt to, and Mr. Moker went on:

"Now what do you mean by it?"

"If any of the bullets from my electric gun went near you, it was a
mistake, and I'm sorry for it," said Tom.

"Well, they did, all right," declared the excited man. "They went
right past my ear."