THE ROBBER WALKS INTO A TRAP.
Walter's feelings, as he lay on his hard bed on the floor, were far from
pleasant. He was not sure that an attempt would be made to rob him, but
the probability seemed so great that he could not compose himself to
sleep. Suspense was so painful that he almost wished that Jack would
come up if he intended to. He was tired, but his mental anxiety
triumphed over his bodily fatigue, and he tossed about restlessly.
It was about nine o'clock when he went to bed. Two hours passed, and
still there were no signs of the apprehended invasion.
But, five minutes later, a heavy step was heard upon the staircase,
which creaked beneath the weight of the man ascending. Jack tried to
come up softly, but it creaked nevertheless.
Walter's heart beat quick, as he heard the steps approaching nearer and
nearer. It was certainly a trying moment, that might have tested the
courage of one older than our hero. Presently the door opened softly,
and Jack advanced stealthily into the chamber, carrying a candle which,
however, was unlighted. He reckoned upon finding Walter undressed, and
his clothes hanging over the chair; but the faint light that entered
through the window showed him that his intended victim had not removed
his clothing. Of course this made the task of taking his pocket-book
much more difficult.
"Confusion!" he muttered. "The boy hasn't undressed."
Walter had closed his eyes, thinking it best to appear to be asleep; but
he heard this exclamation, and it satisfied him of Jack's dishonest
intentions.
The robber paused a moment, and then, stooping over, inserted his hand
into Walter's pocket. He drew out the pocket-book, Walter making no sign
of being aware of what was going on.
"I've got it," muttered Jack, with satisfaction, and stealthily retraced
his steps to the door. He went out, carefully closing it after him, and
again the steps creaked beneath his weight.
"I'm afraid he'll come back when he finds how little there is in it,"
thought Walter. "If so, I must trust to my plan."
Meg looked up with interest when her husband re-entered the room. She
had been listening with nervous interest, fearing that there might be
violence done. She had been relieved to hear no noise, and to see her
husband returning quietly.
"Have you got the pocket-book?" she asked.
"Yes, Meg," he said, displaying it. "He went to bed with his clothes on,
but I pulled it out of his pocket, as he lay asleep, and he will be none
the wiser."
"How much is there in it?"
"I'm going to see. I haven't opened it yet."
He opened the pocket-book, and uttered a cry of disappointment.
"That's all," he said, displaying the five-dollar bill. "He must have
had more."
"He did have more. When he paid me the dollar for stoppin' here, he took
it from a roll of bills."
"What's he done with 'em, the young rascal?"
"Perhaps he had another pocket-book. But that's the one he took out when
he paid me."
"I must go up again, Meg. He had seventy dollars, and I'm goin' to have
the rest. Five dollars won't pay me for the trouble of stealin' it."
"Don't hurt the boy, Jack."
"I will, if he don't fork over the money," said her husband, fiercely.
There was no longer any thought of concealment. It was necessary to wake
Walter to find out where he had put the money. So Jack went upstairs
boldly, not trying to soften the noise of his steps now, angry to think
that he had been put to this extra trouble. Walter heard him coming, and
guessed what brought him back. I will not deny that he felt nervous, but
he determined to act manfully, whatever might be the result. He breathed
a short prayer to God for help, for he knew that in times of peril he is
the only sufficient help.
The door was thrown open, and Jack strode in, bearing in his hand a
candle, this time lighted. He advanced to the bed, and, bending over,
shook Walter vigorously.
"What's the matter?" asked our hero, this time opening his eyes, and
assuming a look of surprise. "Is it time to get up?"
"It's time for you to get up."
"It isn't morning, is it?"
"No; but I've got something to say to you."
"Well," said Walter, sitting up in the bed, "I'm ready."
"Where've you put that money you had last night?"
"Why do you want to know?" demanded Walter, eying his host fixedly.
"No matter why I want to know," said Jack, impatiently. "Tell me, if you
know what's best for yourself."
Walter put his hand in his pocket.
"It was in my pocket-book," he said; "but it's gone."
"Here is your pocket-book," said Jack, producing it.
"Did you take it out of my pocket? What made you take it?"
"None of your impudence, boy!"
"Is it impudent to ask what made you take my property?" said Walter,
firmly.
"Yes, it is," said Jack, with an oath.
"Do you mean to steal my money?"
"Yes, I do; and the sooner you hand it over the better."
"You have got my pocket-book already."
"Perhaps you think I am green," sneered Jack. "I found only five
dollars."
"Then you had better give it back to me. Five dollars isn't worth
taking."
"You're a cool one, and no mistake," said Jack, surveying our hero with
greater respect than he had before manifested. "Do you know that I could
wring your neck?"
"Yes, I suppose you could," said Walter, quietly. "You are a great deal
stronger than I am."
"Aint you afraid of me?"
"I don't think I am. Why should I be?"
"What's to hinder my killin' you? We're alone in the woods, far from
help."
"I don't think you'll do it," said Walter, meeting his gaze steadily.
"You aint a coward, boy; I'll say that for you. Some boys of your age
would be scared to death if they was in your place."
"I don't think I am a coward," said Walter, quietly. "Are you going to
give me back that pocket-book?"
"Not if I know it; but I'll tell you what you're goin' to do."
"What's that?"
"Hunt up the rest of that money, and pretty quick too."
"What makes you think I have got any more money?"
"Didn't you tell me you sold twenty books, at three dollars and a half?
That makes seventy dollars, accordin' to my reckonin'."
"You're right there; but I have sent to Cleveland for some more books,
and had to send the money with the order."
This staggered the robber at first, till he remembered what his wife
had told him.
"That don't go down," he said roughly. "The old woman saw a big roll of
bills when you paid her for your lodgin'. You haven't had any chance of
payin' them away."
Walter recalled the covetous glance of the woman when he displayed the
bills, and he regretted too late his imprudence in revealing the amount
of money he had with him. He saw that it was of no use to attempt to
deceive Jack any longer. It might prove dangerous, and could do no good.
"I have some more money," he said; "but I hope you will let me keep it."
"What made you take it out of your pocket-book?"
"Because I thought I should have a visit from you."
"What made you think so?" demanded Jack, rather surprised.
"I can't tell, but I expected a visit, so I took out most of my money
and hid it."
"Then you'd better find it again. I can't wait here all night. Is it in
your other pocket?"
"No."
"Is that all you can say? Get up, and find me that money, or it'll be
the worse for you."
"Then give me the pocket-book and five dollars. I can't get along if you
take all my money."
Jack reflected that he could easily take away the pocket-book again, and
decided to comply with our hero's request as an inducement for him to
find the other money.
"Here it is," he said. "Now get me the rest."
"I hid some money in that closet," said Walter. "I thought you would
think of looking there."
No sooner was the closet pointed out than Jack eagerly strode towards it
and threw open the door. He entered it, and began to peer about him,
holding the candle in his hand.
"Where did you put it?" he inquired, turning to question Walter.
But he had scarcely spoken when our hero closed the door hastily, and,
before Jack could recover from his surprise, had bolted it on the
outside. To add to the discomfiture of the imprisoned robber, the wind
produced by the violent slamming of the door blew out the candle, and he
found himself a captive, in utter darkness.
"Let me out, or I'll murder you!" he roared, kicking the barrier that
separated him from his late victim, now his captor.
Walter saw that there was no time to lose. The door, though strong,
would probably soon give way before the strength of his prisoner. When
the liberation took place, he must be gone. He held the handle of his
carpet-bag between his teeth, and, getting out of the window, hung down.
The distance was not great, and he alighted upon the ground without
injury. Without delay he plunged into the woods, not caring in what
direction he went, as long as it carried him away from his dishonest
landlord.