a rush for him.

"O-o-o-oh, Aunty, Aunty!" he squeals, dashin' down the hall.

Now, say, the way I was feelin' then, I'd have gone up against a whole
fam'ly, big brothers included; so a little thing like a call for Aunty
don't stop me at all. As he turns into the room on the left I'm only a
jump behind, and all that fetches me up is when he does a dive behind an
old lady in a big leather chair. She's a wide, heavy old party, with a
dinky white cap on her white hair, and kind of a resigned, patient look
on her face. Someway, she acts like she was more or less used to
surprises like this; for she don't seem much excited.

"Why, Hadley!" she remarks. "Whatever is the matter now?"

"He--he chased me into the house!" whines Master Hadley from behind the
chair.

"Did you?" says the old girl.

"Sure," says I. "He's too blamed fresh!"

"There, there!" says she. "You mustn't speak that way of Hadley. He is
only a little boy, you know."

"Yes'm," says I.

"And he was only indulging in innocent play," she goes on. "Come,
Hadley, untie me now. Please, Hadley!"

Say, I hadn't noticed it before, but the old girl is roped solid, feet
and arms, to the chair legs, and it's clear that when nobody was goin'
by for little Hadley to shoot at he'd been usin' Aunty for a target. The
damp spots on the wall behind the chair and one or two on her dress
showed that.

"I won't, unless you'll call Maggie and have her throw him out!" growls
Hadley.

"Oh, come, Hadley, be a good boy!" coaxes Aunty.

"Sha'n't!" says Hadley. "And next time I'll shoot ink at you."

"Now, Hadley!" protests Aunty.

"Excuse me, lady," says I, "but it looks to me like there was something
comin' to Hadley that I ought to tend to. This ain't on my account,
either, but yours. Now watch. Hi, freshy!" and I makes another dash for
him.

Well, he knows the lay of the land better'n I do, and he's quick on the
dodge, so we has a lively time of it for a couple of minutes, him
throwin' chairs in my way and hurdlin' sofas, Aunty beggin' us to quit
and callin' for Maggie, and me keepin' right on the job. But at last I
got him cornered. He makes a desp'rate duck and tries to butt me; but I
catches his head under my arm and down he goes on the rug. I'd just
yanked the squirt gun out of his hand and was emptyin' it down the back
of his neck, with him hollerin' blue murder, and Aunty strugglin' to get
loose, when the front door opens and in walks a couple of ladies, on