AftertheblindingflashoflightandthequeerclickhadsentBrownieBeaverhurryinghomefromhispartlygnawedtree,hestayedinhishouseforalongtimebeforeheventuredoutagain. Indeed,thenightwashalfgonewhenheatlasthestoleforthtofindGrandaddyBeaverandtellhimabouthisawfulfright. Browniefoundtheoldgentlemanrestingafterseveralhours’workuponthebigdam.AndwhenyoungBrownietoldGrandaddywhathadhappened,theoldgentlemandidn’tknowjustwhattothink. “Itcouldn’thavebeenamoonbeam,”hesaid,“becausethere’snomoontonight. AndIdon’tseehowitcouldhavebeenagun,becausetherewasnoroar.Didyouhearasortofwhistle?”heasked. “Anythingthatsoundedlikeabulletpassingoveryourhead?” BrownieBeavershudderedatthemerementionofabullet. “Iheardnothingbutthatoddclick,”hereplied. “That’swhatagunsoundslikewhenit’scocked,”saidGrandaddyBeaver. “Butwithagun,theclickcomesfirst,theflashnext,andtheroarlastofall. Andhereyoutellmetheflashcamefirst,theclicknext,andtherewasnoroaratall. What’sabodya-goingtothink,I’dliketoknow?Itwasn’tagun—that’ssure. AndifyouwanttoknowwhatIsayaboutit,why—Isaythatitwasaverystrangethingthathappenedtoyou. AndI’dkeepawayfromthattreeforalongtime.” “IhadmadeupmymindthatI’ddothat,”Brownietoldhim.Andthenhewenthomeagain. Butheneverwenttosleepuntilalmostnoonthefollowingday;forwheneverheclosedhiseyesheseemedtoseethatblindingflashoflightagain. WhenJasperJaycameonSaturdayafternoontotellBrownieBeaverwhathadhappenedintheworldduringthepastweekhehadanastoundingpieceofnews. “Here’ssomethingaboutyou,”JaspertoldBrownie,assoonashecouldcatchhisbreath. Jasperhadflownfasterthanusualthatday,becausehehadsuchinterestingnews. “Yourpicture,”hetoldBrownie,“isinthephotographer’swindow,wayoverinthetownwhereFarmerGreengoessometimes.” BrownieBeavergaveJasperaquicklook. “I’veoftensuspected,”hesaid,“thatyoudon’talwaystellmethetruth.AndnowIknowit.I’veneverbeentothephotographer’sinmylife.Sohowcouldhehavemypicture,Ishouldliketoknow?” “Butyoudon’thavetogotothephotographer’stohaveyourpicturetaken,”JasperJayretorted.“Whycouldn’tthephotographercometoyou?” “Isupposehecould,”BrownieBeaversaid.“Buthe’sneverbeenhere.” JasperJaygaveoneofhisloudlaughs. “That—”hesaid—“thatisjustwhereyouaremistaken.AndwhenIexplainhowIcamebythisnews,maybeyou’llbelieveme.” “TommyFoxtoldittome,”Jasperwenton,“andolddogSpottoldittohim. EverybodyknowsthatoldSpotsometimesgoestotownwithhismaster.Theywerethereyesterday.AndSpotsawyourpicturehimself. What’smore,heheardthephotographertellFarmerGreenthathecameupherealmostaweekago,hidhiscamerainsomebushes,andsetaflashlightnearahalf—gnawedtree. Andwhenyoustartedtoworkonthetreethatnightyoubrushedagainstawire,andtheflashlightflaredup,andthecameratookyourpicturebeforeyoucouldjumpaway....Nowwhatdoyousay?”JasperJaydemanded. “NowdoyouthinkI’mtellingyouthetruth?” BrownieBeaverwassosurprisedthatitwasseveralminutesbeforehecouldspeak.Thenhesaid: “GrandaddyBeaverwasright.Itwasn’tagun.Iwasjusthavingmypicturetaken.” Browniewasactuallypleased,becauseheknewhewastheonlypersoninhisvillagethathadeverhadsuchathinghappentohim. AfterthathewasreadytobelieveeverythingJasperJaytoldhim.SoJasperrelatedsomewonderfulnews. Anditwouldhardlybefairforanyonenotpresentatthetimetosaythatitwasn’tperfectlytrue—everywordofit. 
