Her road lay through the woods, where an unforeseen danger lay in wait for her.

Meanwhile Pomp was pursuing military science under difficulties.  The weight of the musket made it very awkward for him to handle.  Several times he got out of patience with it, and apostrophized it in terms far from complimentary.  At last, in one of his awkward maneuvers, he accidentally pulled the trigger.  Instantly there was a loud report, followed by a piercing shriek from the road.  The charge had entered old Mrs. Payson’s umbrella and knocked it out of her hand.  The old lady fancied herself hit, and fell backward, kicking energetically, and screaming “murder” at the top of her lungs.

The musket had done double execution.  It was too heavily loaded, and as it went off, ‘kicked,’ leaving Pomp, about as scared as the old lady, sprawling on the ground.

Henry Morton was only a few rods off when he heard the explosion.  He at once ran to the old lady’s assistance, fancying her hurt.  She shrieked the louder on his approach, imagining that he was a robber, and had fired at her.

“Go away!” she cried, in affright.  “I ain’t got any money.  I’m a poor, destitute widder!”

“What do you take me for?” inquired Mr. Morton, somewhat amazed at this mode of address.

“Ain’t you a highwayman?” asked the old lady.

“If you look at me close I think you will be able to answer that question for yourself.”

The old lady cautiously rose to a sitting posture, and, mechanically adjusting her spectacles, took a good look at the young man.

“Why, I declare for it, ef it ain’t Mr. Morton!  I thought ’twas you that fired at me.”

“I hope you are not hurt,” said Mr. Morton, finding a difficulty in preserving his gravity.

“I dunno,” said the old lady dubiously, pulling up her sleeve, and examining her arm.  “I don’t see nothin’; but I expect I’ve had some injury to my inards.  I feel as ef I’d had a shock somewhere.  Do you think he’ll fire again?” she asked, with a sudden alarm.

“You need not feel alarmed,” was the soothing reply.  “It was no doubt an accident.”

Turning suddenly, he espied Pomp peering from behind a tree, with eyes and mouth wide open.  The little contraband essayed a hasty flight; but Mr. Morton, by a masterly flank movement, came upon him, and brought forward the captive kicking and struggling.

“Le’ me go!” said Pomp.  “I ain’t done noffin’!”

“Didn’t you fire a gun at this lady?”

“No,” said Pomp boldly.  “Wish I may be killed ef I did!”

“I know ’twas you—­you—­you imp!” exclaimed Mrs. Payson, in violent indignation.  “I seed you do it.  You’re the wust boy that ever lived, and you’ll be hung jest as sure as I stan’ here!”

“How did it happen, Pomp?” asked Mr. Morton quietly.

“It jest shooted itself!” said Pomp, in whom the old lady’s words inspired a vague feeling of alarm.  “I ‘clare to gracious, Mass’ Morton, it did!”