ean," she said. "Now for the cartridge."

Over on the wall hung Jack's ammunition box. Cologne was watching at a
safe distance. Tavia had gone downstairs by way of a rope that Jack
Markin used for descending. Dorothy put the load in, made sure it was
all right, then went over to the beast's hiding place. She crouched
down and took aim.

"Do--be--careful, Dorothy."

Crack!

"There! That fetched him!" exclaimed Dorothy. "I saw him roll over."

"Make sure he is dead before you pull the door away," again cautioned
Cologne.

"Dead as a carpet tack," declared Dorothy. "Let's call Tavia and get
her to pull him out. She ought to do something in this, our first
hunt."

Tavia was called, and being assured that the thing had rolled the
death roll, she came up the ladder, and with the aid of a long handled
hay rake, she just ventured to touch the strange thing.

"It's dead!"

This was the signal for a series of antics such as Tavia might imagine
to be popular in the Figi Islands when some real dainty morsel fell
into the camp kettle.

"Oh, let us see what it is!" ordered Cologne. "Maybe we won't have to
go trout fishing, it may do for dinner."

"It may, then again it may not," replied Tavia. "But May or Mamie,
let's haul her out."

Dorothy put her shoulder to the frame door, back of which the thing
was hidden.

"One, two, three!" she shoved it over. "Are you ready?"

"Let her go!" called Cologne, springing up on an old trunk.

But it didn't go, neither did it come.

The girls waited breathlessly.

"Pull him out, Tavia! What's the use standing there with a rake in
your hand," said Dorothy.

"I want to make sure he does not revive," she replied, gingerly poking
the rake handle a little further under the hidden corner.

"Oh, here," exclaimed Dorothy impatiently. "Let me take that implement
and you hold this door. We ought to get the animal out in time for
lunch."

They shifted positions. Dorothy jabbed the rake recklessly into the
corner. Tavia moaned, and Cologne groaned.

Drag--drag--It was coming out.

"Mercy!" exclaimed Tavia.

"Goodness me!" gasped Cologne.

But Dorothy, who was the only one near the thing, simply dropped the
rake and stood aghast--too dumbfounded to utter a syllable!

"What is it?" begged Cologne.

"_A WINDOW BRUSH!_" she gasped, at the same moment stooping to pick up
the beast--the thing with the straight, long black hair that stood
up in fierce bristles!

[Illustration: "