Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle | Page 9

I'm not going to
have it!"
Some one pounded on the door of the shed.
"It's Barney Moker!" exclaimed Tom. "I wonder what can have
happened?"

CHAPTER III
A DIFFICULT TEST
Tom Swift opened the door of the improvised rifle gallery and looked
out. By the light of a full moon, which shone down from a cloudless
sky, he saw a man standing at the portal. The man's face was distorted
with rage, and he shook his fist at the young inventor.
"What do you mean by shooting at me?" he demanded. "What do you
mean, I say? The idea of scaring honest folks out of their wits, and
making 'em think the end of the world has come! What do you mean by
it? Why don't you answer me? I say, Tom Swift, why don't you answer
me?"
"Because you don't give me a chance, Mr. Moker," replied our hero.
"I want to know why you shot at me? I demand to know!" and Mr.

Moker, who was a sort of miserly town character, living all alone in a
small house, just beyond Tom's home, again shook his fist almost in the
lad's face. "Why don't you tell me? Why don't you tell me?" he shouted.
"I will, if you give me a chance!" fairly exploded Tom. "If you can be
cool for five minutes, and come inside and tell me what happened I'll
be glad to answer any of your questions, Mr. Moker. I didn't shoot at
you."
"Yes, you did! You tried to shoot a hole through me!"
"Tell me about it?" suggested Tom, as the excited man calmed down
somewhat. "Are you hurt?"
"No, but it isn't your fault that I'm not. You tried hard enough to hurt
me. Here I am, sitting at my table reading, and, all at once something
goes through the side of the house, whizzes past my ear, makes my hair
fairly stand up on end, and goes outside the other side of the house.
What kind of bullets do you use, Tom Swift? that's what I want to
know. They went through the side of my house, and never left a mark. I
demand to know what kind they are."
"I'll tell you, if you'll only give me a chance," went on Tom wearily.
"How do you know it was me shooting?"
"How do I know? Why, doesn't the end of this shooting gallery of
yours point right at my house? Of course it does; you can't deny it!"
Tom did not attempt to, and Mr. Moker went on:
"Now what do you mean by it?"
"If any of the bullets from my electric gun went near you, it was a
mistake, and I'm sorry for it," said Tom.
"Well, they did, all right," declared the excited man. "They went right
past my ear."
"I don't see how they could," declared Tom. "I was trying my new

electric rifle, but I had the limit set for two hundred feet, the length of
the gallery. That is, the electrical discharge couldn't go beyond that
distance."
"I don't know what it was, but it went through the side of my house all
the same," insisted Mr. Moker. "It didn't make a hole, but it scorched
the wall paper a little."
"I don't see how it could," declared Tom. "It couldn't possibly have
gone over two hundred feet with the gage set for that distance." He
paused suddenly, and hurried over to where he had placed his gun.
Catching up the weapon he looked at the gage dial. Then he uttered an
exclamation.
"I'm sorry to admit that you are right, Mr. Moker!" he said finally. "I
made a mistake. The gage is set for a thousand feet instead of two
hundred. I forgot to change it. The charge, after passing through the
steel plate, and the scarecrow figure, destroying the latter, went on, and
shot through the side of your house."
"Ha! I knew you were trying to shoot me!" exclaimed the still angry
man. "I'll have the law on you for this!"
"Oh, that's all nonsense!" broke in Ned Newton "Everybody knows
Tom Smith wouldn't try to shoot you, or any one else, Mr. Moker."
"Then why did he shoot at me?"
"That was a mistake," explained Tom, "and I apologize to you for it."
"Humph! A lot of good that would do me, if I'd been killed!" muttered
the miser. "I'm going to sue you for this. You might have put me in my
grave."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Tom.
"Why impossible?" demanded the visitor.
"Because I had so set the rifle that almost the entire force of the

electrical bullet was expended in blowing apart the scarecrow figure I
made for a test," explained Tom. "All that passed through your house
was a