VISITORS OF THE NIGHT
Chester bounded out of bed and hunted to the door, which he unlocked and
opened for a few inches. He could see nothing in the gloom, and asked in
a whisper:
"Who is it?"
"It is I--Nora. Mamma and I are awfully scared."
"What's the matter?"
"Somebody is in the store downstairs."
"How do you know that?"
"Mamma heard the window raised and woke me. She asked me to call you
boys."
"Wait a moment and we'll be with you."
It showed how lightly Alvin and Mike were sleeping when they were
instantly roused by the slight noise made in opening the door. Each sat
on the side of his couch and listened. In the deep silence they heard the
snatch of conversation and hurriedly began putting on their clothes. They
wrought silently and without lighting the lamp.
"I expected it," remarked Chester, imitating them.
Mrs. Friestone joined her daughter in the dark hall, she being too wise
to use a light. A moment later the whole party stood together in the
gloom, where neither could see the face of the others.
"Hark!" whispered the mother.
The five stood for a minute without stirring or speaking and hardly
breathing. Not the slightest sound reached their ears. Then Chester asked
in a guarded undertone:
"Are you sure you were not mistaken, Mrs. Friestone?"
"I could not have been; the sound of the raising of the window was too
distinct for me to be deceived--hark!" she warned again.
This time all heard something. It was a faint, rasping noise such as
might have been caused by the cautious pushing of a box or large smooth
object over the floor. If this were so, the article could not have been
moved more than a few inches, for the sound ceased immediately.
"You are right," said Alvin; "you have visitors. About what time do you
suppose it is?"
"The clock struck twelve quite awhile ago. There! it is now one," she
added as a silvery tinkle came from the parlor.
"What shall we do?" asked Nora, echoing the question that was in the mind
of every one.
And then a strange council was held in a place so dark that all who took
part were mutually invisible.
It would seem that the common sense course was to make a noise that would
be heard by the burglars and would scare them off. That is to say that
theoretically this would occur, but it might not. Knowing how much loot
was within their reach, if not already in hand, one or two of them were
likely to hurry upstairs and compel those that were there to hold their
peace, hesitating at no violence to enforce their orders.
While the boys were eager to take the risk, the mother would not agree
and the plan had to be abandoned.
The next proposal was for each to thrust his or her head out of a window
and call for help. The cry would rouse the village and it would not take
long for many citizens to rush thither. Beartown had no police force, the
only officer of the peace being a constable who was lame and cross-eyed
and lived at the farthest end of the village. No dependence could be
placed on him, but there were plenty of others who would gladly hasten to
the help of mother and daughter.
This was the only thing to do, and it would have been done but for the
hysterical opposition of Nora Friestone. She declared that the dreadful
robbers--she was sure of it--would hurry upstairs the instant the first
scream was made and kill every one before any help could arrive! It might
not take more than five or ten minutes for friends to run to the spot,
but that would be enough for the burglars to complete their awful work.
Possibly the girl might have been argued out of her absurd fear had she
not won her mother to her side. She took the same view.
"What then is to be done?" asked Chester a trifle impatiently.
"Nothing; they can't get the safe open, if they work till daylight."
"They can do it in a few minutes if they use dynamite, and at the same
time blow out the whole end of your house."
To this terrifying declaration the lady could make no reply except to
say:
"We may as well go back to our rooms."
It was on the point of Chester's tongue to ask in view of this conclusion
why Nora had knocked on their door, but he thought best to refrain.
"Whisht!" whispered Mike; "let's go to the parlor, where we have the
moonlight to help us."
Walking on tiptoe and as silent as so many cats, the party moved through
the hall to the front room. The straining ears heard nothing more from
below stairs, though there could be no doubt that their visitors were
still there.
As Mike had intimated, the round, clear moon was in the sky, and looking
from the windows it seemed almost as bright as day. The party stood just
far enough back to be invisible to anyone in the street below. A row of
elms lined each side of the highway, being mutually separated by a dozen
yards or so. They were small, having been set out only a few years
before, but were in full foliage and the most remote ones cast a shadow
into the highway. On the same side of what was the main street, each
frame house that served for a dwelling had a yard, shrubbery and flowers
in front. Farther to the left was the small grocery store, while to the
right on the same side as the post office was the pert little village
church to which reference has already been made.
At this hour all Beartown seemed to be sunk in slumber, as was quite
proper should be the case. From not a single window twinkled a light nor
was man, woman or boy seen on the street. A solitary dog, with nose down
and travelling diagonally as canines sometimes do, trotted to the front
gate of the house opposite the post office, jumped over and passed from
view to the rear.
"I wonder what that man is waiting there for."
It was Nora who whispered this question, which instantly put the others
on the _qui vive_.
"I don't see any man; where is he?" asked Chester.
"Under that tree opposite; he's in plain sight."
Such was the fact now that she had directed attention to him. The elm was
directly across the street, and had a trunk not more than six or eight
inches in diameter. A man was standing motionless under the dense foliage
several feet above his head, doing nothing except simply to stand there.
"He is the lookout," said Chester.
"What's a lookout?" asked the nervous Nora.
"He is there to watch for danger that may threaten the others who are
inside and working at your mother's safe. If he sees anything wrong he
will give a signal, probably by means of a whistle, and the fellows below
will run."
"Why couldn't you give the signal?"
"I could if I knew what it is, but I don't."
"Look! he is coming over here!" exclaimed the affrighted Nora, as the man
stepped from the shadow, walked half way across the street, and then
halted as if in doubt whether to advance farther.
"No fear of his visiting us," Alvin assured her; "but it is best to keep
out of sight."
All shrank still farther back, when there was no possibility of being
seen in the first place. The man did not look up, but kept his slouch hat
pulled so far down that nothing of his face was visible. He held his
position for perhaps five minutes, when he turned about and went back to
his post. There could be no doubt that he was the lookout of the gang, as
Chester had said when he was first noticed. Not once did he look up
before reaching his place, so that none of our friends caught a glimpse
of his features.
What a unique situation! One or more burglars were at work on the safe
below stairs, and there were five persons on the floor above who knew it,
but did not raise voice or a hand to interfere with them. It has been
explained why, though it should be added that in the way of firearms
there was only the single worthless Springfield rifle in the house. It
was mother and daughter who held the three lads supine. Had they been
left free they would have acted immediately on first learning of the
presence of the criminals.
Chester had spoken the word "dynamite," and it was that terrific
explosive which he and his companions dreaded unspeakably. If the charge
were fired, it would not only blow the massive safe apart, but was likely
to wreck the building itself and probably inflict death to more than one
in the dwelling.
Mike Murphy chafed more than his comrades. Reflecting on the exasperating
state of affairs, he determined to do something despite the opposition of
the mother and daughter. A few minutes' thought suggested a plan. He
would have revealed it to Alvin and Chester, but feared they would
prevent action or that his whispering in the darkness of the room would
awaken the suspicion of the other two.
Only when near the front windows could the members of the party dimly see
one another. They had withdrawn so far at sight of the approach of the
man on guard that the light ill served them. Mike stealthily retreated to
the open door leading into the hall. Neither of his comrades heard him,
and he groped along the passage, with hands outstretched on each side to
guide him. The feet were lifted and set down without noise, and by and by
he came to the opening leading to the bedroom. Across this he made his
way with the same noiseless stealth, until the groping hand touched the
battered rifle, which he lifted from its resting place. Back into the
hall again, and then through the dining room, inch by inch, to where he
remembered seeing the head of the stairs, though he knew nothing beyond
that. He would have struck a match but for fear of attracting the notice
of those below.
"I've only to feel each step," he reflected, "and I'll soon arrive, and
then won't fur of the spalpeens fly?"
His unfamiliarity with the stairs made him think they were not so nearly
perpendicular as was the fact. While the thought was in his mind, he made
a misstep and, unable to check himself, went bumping all the way to the
bottom.