mutual laugh, and, as there was neither sound nor sign of further
danger from like source, one and all satisfied their curiosity by
minutely inspecting the huge brute, stirring up the fire for that
purpose.

"An ugly customer, indeed, if we had given him anything like a
fair show," gravely uttered the professor. "Only for your prompt
assistance, my dear boys, what would have become of poor me?"

"We acted on our own account, as well, please remember, uncle.
And even so, after all you have done for us since--"

"What was it you shot at, uncle Phaeton?" interrupted Waldo, who
was constitutionally averse to aught which savoured of sentiment.
"Another one of these--little squirrels, was it?"

Snatching up a blazing brand, the lad moved off in that
direction, whirling the torch around his head until it burst into
clear flame, then lowering it closer to a bloody heap of fur and
powerful limbs, to give a short ejaculation of wondering awe.

It was a headless body upon which he gazed, ragged fragments of
skin and a few splinters of bone alone remaining to tell that a
solid skull had so recently been thereon.

Professor Phaeton gave another of his peculiar little chuckles,
as he drew near, then patted the compact little rifle with which
he had wrought such extraordinary work: a weapon of his own
invention, as were the dynamite-filled shells to match.