The stock was uninjured and the lock
mechanism, but the muzzle end of the right barrel was split open and a
section blown out of it.
"You didn't get mud or anything of that kind in the muzzle?" Merriwell
questioned, anxiously examining the ruined weapon. "That will sometimes
make a gun explode."
"None whatever!" Badger grumbled, nursing his numbed hand and arm, while
a crowd gathered round him and Merriwell, asking excited and eager
questions. "Do you think I'm fool enough to do a thing like that?"
Frank plucked at Rattleton's arm.
"Take charge of that box of shells," he said, in an undertone. "Don't
let any one touch them. The box from which I took the shells for Badger!
I'm afraid the shells in it have been tampered with."
"Agnew!" Rattleton gasped. "He's somewhere on the grounds, you know, and
he was right up here awhile ago!"
"I don't know. It may be. We can tell better later. Just now, take
charge of that box. No more shells must be used out of it, nor out of
any others of mine."
"All right!" Rattleton promised, and moved quickly away.
"How is your hand and arm?" Merriwell asked, again addressing Badger.
"Well, I allow it's good enough to do some more shooting!" Badger
snarled, giving Hodge a suspicious glance. "You didn't beat me! I missed
that bird; but the gun blew up was the reason.
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