The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1883-06-16


| clock" Mrs. Poysett did that in the
dark. for Linda had taken the lamp into
the kitchen.
''Eighti Well, I declare!' said the
good lady as the clock struck after she
had CROPPED her way up stairs. "And it's
right, too, for Lindy put it round this
morning. Seems to me it took You q
good while" she went on as Linda came
in with the lamp. ~ don't believe but
what you went thro' some extra fastenin'
up, now, we're alone"
mot bit, mother" said Linda, with
smile cut short by yawn." I stopped
to put the cat ont"
| II always think Of what your father
said, mused the old lady. It was after
the Hampstead murder We never had
our doors fastened in the world till then;
| and soon as the news OF that come every
body was scared to death, and your
father put button on the back door.
And the first night he turned it, he laid
awhile a-thinkin' and he says, ''If there
IS one wooded button between me and
death, guess TIL trust in the Lord and
not the button So he went down stairs
and turned the button back. What lot
of hair you've got, Lindy. and how quick
you braid itl''
| When Pete crept up to the house at
10, the women had been soundly asleep
for two hours. He tried the kitchen
| window; IL had no fastenings and went
up noiselessly. He stepped in and stood
| trembling. The clock in the next room
| ticked with appalling loudness. His
knees smote together. but it required as
much courage to flee as to remain. Per-
haps for ten minutes-perhaps hours,
Judging by his own exaggerated reckon
ing-he stood in fear; and then, as the
clock ticked on steadily, as if it had no
reference to him, his courage crawled
back and his heart beats great fainter.
He crept toward the sitting room door
on his hands and knees. There stood
the old desk, with its high spindle legs,
half of it exaggerated shadow and half
thrown into light by shaft from the
moon. Probably the key was in the
lock. He had seen Frank bring in fat
roll of bills after selling his oxen, toss
them in there and put down the cover
without turning the key. There had
been no robberies in Belburn, and SO
people trusted more in human nature
and less in wood and steel. But the sit
ting room was so light! He never should
dare to go in there; the very thought of
having his shadow thrown on the wall,
distorted like those of the tables and
chairs, gives him another sickening
spasm of fear. What if there were only
women in the house? He was not thief
by nature or training. He would crouch
down in corner and wait for Whettles
to come. He had been there ages, when
the clock with an alarming whir, struck
twelve. He started up with an after
impulse of gratitude that he had not
shrieked. When had the hour struck?
It seemed incredible that he must have
slept, but it must have been so or, what
was propable, he had been too much
absorbed to hear it. It was time for
Whettles. He crept back to the kitchen
window and waited in the cold draft of
air. Minutes passed, each seeming ten
He began to grow angry. Did the fellow
mean to play him false and not
come at all? AS ager arose, his
courage to do the deed ebbed. I do not
believe conscience asserted itself very
strongly. Life was harder than it had
been even one day before. and there was
no -four in the house now. He was still
bitterly at odds with life, but the after
effects Of the whisky Whettles had given
him were nervousness and irresolution
The clock gave warning for another
hour. False, friendly old clock, if he
could have seen your face he would have
known it lacked ten minutes of midnight
then; instead, be believed it would strike
one. Too late for Whettles. Perhaps he
was now at the old elm; he would hurry
there and bring him back to do his share
| of the work. He closed the window be-
hind him and hurried off to the rendez-
| vous. There was no one there. At that
moment the relief of having been pre-
| vented from sin overbalanced every
other feeling. Something must have
happened to Whettles; perhaps he had
been caught; perhaps he would say that
his accomplice was waiting for him un-
der the elml He started on swift run
for home, to find his wife watching for
him in the moonlight.
She was too thankful at finding him
sober to worry at the lateness of his
coming. Being woman of tact she did
not question, but went to sleep, while
Pete lay till daybreak in a cold bath of
fear, expecting rap and summons to
Jail at every tapping OF bough or snap
ping of frost-bitten nail.
Whettles had fingered about Turner's,
RECdb AOOSO OfO1 VIC Ai4A1 Ill tuC uUpG
that the guests-for there was party
that night-would take their leave. But
no, the house was lighted from cham
bers to parlor, and sleighs came instead
of going away. He walked up and down
the orchard, cursing himself to keep
warm. Later and later. and the singing
and dancing shadows on the curtain did
not cease. He would hurry over to
Poysett's and see if the cats paw had
done his work there. He stole up to the
designated window, as Pete had done.
No one was there. He listened and
whlstled softly. The clock struck one
He had no idea it was SO late. Pete must
be waiting for him at the elm. And 80 he
too, hurried away.
But there was only a mammoth lace
work of shadow undor the elm. Where
was Pete? The master villain, himself
puzzled, reflected moment. Perhaps
the fellow had the money and was hiding
it at home. Lucky thought He would
go to the house and call him up, in spite
of disturbing wife and children. Then
see if he would refuse to sharel He took
the road, and, passing Toppan's saloon,
noticed dim light in the barroom. Tt
was rather unusual that it should be
there SO late, but he had known it to
happen before. He had just about money
enough for a dram. He tapped. and
then tried the door; is was unfastened,
and he went in lightly. A man in great
cnat rose from his aaat hv fha stove and