THE MYSTERY OF THE RIFLE

"I can't help it, I saw a lion, anyway," muttered the fat boy.

"Come up here!" It was Dad's voice calling to them. "Where's that
rifle?"

"I---I dropped it, I told you."

"Where did you drop it?"

"Right there."

"Show me."

Stacy climbed to the top of the rise and stepped confidently over to
where he had let go the rifle before rushing down after having tried
to shoot the lion. He actually stooped over to pick up the gun, so
confident was he as to its location. Then a puzzled expression appeared
on Stacy's face.

"Oh, it's there, is it?"

"Why---I---I------- Say, you're trying to play a joke on me."

"I rather think you've played it on yourself," jeered the guide. "Where
did you leave it?"

"Right there, I tell you."

"Sure you didn't throw it over in the bushes down the other side?"

"I guess I know what I did with it," retorted Chunky indignantly.

"Well, it isn't here." Dad was somewhat puzzled by this time. He saw
that Stacy was very confident of having left the gun at that particular
place, but it could not be found.

"Maybe somebody's stolen it," suggested the boy.

"Nonsense! Who is there here to steal it, in the first place? In the
second, how could any one slip in here at the right moment and get
away with your rifle?"

"You have no---no idea what has become of it---no theory?" asked the
Professor.

"Not the least little bit," replied the guide.

"Most remarkable---most remarkable," muttered Professor Zepplin. "I
cannot understand it."

"We'll look around a bit," announced Dad.

The three men searched everywhere, even going all the way down to the
base of the rise on either side, but nowhere did they find the slightest
trace of the missing rifle. After they had returned to the summit, Dad,
a new idea in mind, went over the rocks and the ground again in search
of footprints. The only footprints observable were those of their own
party. There was more in the mystery than Dad could fathom.

"Well, this gets me," declared the guide, wiping the perspiration from
his forehead. "This certainly does."

"Is---is my rifle lost?" wailed Chunky.

"I reckon you'll never see that pretty bit of firearms again," grinned
Jim.

"But it must be here," insisted Stacy.

"But it isn't. Fortunately we have plenty of guns with us. You can get
another when we go back to camp."

"Yes, but this one is mine-----"

"Was yours," corrected Nance.

"It is