went on Dave. All his interest in target-shooting had ended. "He will know what is best to do."
"We'll leave the target where it is," said Roger. "Then we can explain just how the thing occurred."
With downcast heart Dave left the field and approached the mansion, and his chums went with him. Just as they reached the piazza the door opened and Laura came out, accompanied by Jessie Wadsworth.
"Oh, are you coming back?" aeked Laura. "We were just going to join you."
"Maybe you've killed the bear!" cried Jessie, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I heard that Phil had manufactured one."
"No," answered Dave. "We—that is, I—had some trouble with Mr. Poole." He turned to his sister. "Where is father?"
"Gone out of town on business. He'll be back this evening."
"And Uncle Dunston?"
"Uncle went with him."
"Oh, that's too bad!" And Dave's face showed more concern than ever.
"What was the trouble about?" asked Jessie, who was quick to see that Dave was ill at ease.
"Oh, Mr. Poole thought I shot at him—but I didn't," replied Dave, and then told the story.
"Oh, Dave, do you really think he'll have you
