case. "Just turn on a few more lights, will you, Mr. Jackson," and
the engineer, who was employed by Tom and his father to aid them in
their inventive work, did as requested.

The gallery was now brilliantly illuminated, with the reflectors
throwing the beams on the big stuffed figure, which, save for a
face, looked very much like a human being, standing at the end of
the gallery.

"I don't suppose you want to go down there and hold it, while I
shoot at it; do you, Rad?" asked Tom jokingly, as he prepared the
electric rifle for use.

"No indeedy, I don't!" cried Eradicate. "Yo'-all will hab t' scuse
me, Massa Tom. I think I'll be goin' now."

"What's your hurry?" asked Ned, as he saw the colored man hastily
preparing to leave the improvised gallery.

"I spects I'd better fro' down some mo' straw fo' a bed fo' my mule
Boomerang!" exclaimed Eradicate, as he hastily slid out of the door,
and shut it after him.

"Rad is nervous," remarked Tom. "He doesn't like this gun. Well, it
certainly does great execution."

"How does it work'" asked Ned, as he looked at the curious gun. The
electric weapon was not unlike an ordinary heavy rifle in appearance
save that the barrel was a little longer, and the stock larger in
every way. There were also a number of wheels, levers, gears and
gages on the stock.

"It works by electricity," explained Tom.

"That is, the force comes from a powerful current of stored
electricity."

"Oh, then you have storage batteries in the stock?"

"Not exactly. There are no batteries, but the current is a sort of
wireless kind. It is stored in a cylinder, just as compressed air or
gases are stored, and can be released as I need it."

"And when it's all gone, what do you do?"

"Make more power by means of a small dynamo."

"And does it shoot lead bullets?"

"Not at all. There are no bullets used."

"Then how does it kill?"

"By means of a concentrated charge of electricity which is shot from
the barrel with great force. You can't see it, yet it is there. It's
just as if you concentrated a charge of electricity of five thousand
volts into a small globule the size of a bullet. That flies through
space, strikes the object aimed at and--well, we'll see what it does
in a minute. Mr. Jackson, just put that steel plate up in front of
the scarecrow; will you?"

The engineer proceeded to put into place a section of steel armor-plate
before the stuffed figure.

"You don't mean to say you're