He was accustomed to strange experiences in his afternoon walks, and, finding the cartridge-box unguarded, made investigations with his nose.

Maisie fired, but could not see where the bullet went.
'I think it hit the post,' she said, shading her eyes and looking out across the sailless sea.
'I know it has gone out to the Marazion Bell-buoy,' said Dick, with a chuckle.

'Fire low and to the left; then perhaps you'll get it.

Oh, look at Amomma!--he's eating the cartridges!' Maisie turned, the revolver in her hand, just in time to see Amomma scampering away from the pebbles Dick threw after him.

Nothing is sacred to a billy-goat.