The allure
of first sight was gone. In Mr. Williams' bedchamber, with Sam
clamouring for possession, it had seemed to Penrod that nothing
in the world was so desirable as to have that revolver in his own
hands--it was his dream come true. But, for reasons not
definitely known to him, the charm had departed; he turned the
cylinder gingerly, almost with distaste; and slowly there stole
over him a feeling that there was something repellent and
threatening in the heavy blue steel.
Thus does the long-dreamed Real misbehave--not only for Penrod!
More out of a sense of duty to bingism in general than for any
other reason, he pointed the revolver at the lawn-mower, and
gloomily murmured, "Bing!"
Simultaneously, a low and cautious voice sounded from the yard
outside, "Yay, Penrod!" and Sam Williams darkened the doorway,
his eye falling instantly upon the weapon in his friend's hand.
Sam seemed relieved to see it.
"You didn't get caught with it, did you?" he said hastily.
Penrod shook his head, rising.
"I guess not! I guess I got SOME brains around me," he added,
inspired by Sam's presence to assume a slight swagger.
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