The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1886-10-01


with doors shut and locked, or at sun
down, driving home the cows from the
pasture lot, or at night, buried in the
bed-clothes, we discussed it. The prep
arations, too, had to be made in the
night We nearly broke our necks
climbing out on the roof night after
night to arrange our "crack o. doom.
as Fred called it. Mailing the works
of the clock in the parlor fireplace re-
quired all our skill in amateur burg
larry. But we managed to accomplish
the task, although | was shut up be-
mind the fireboard half the night, and
Fred sprained his ankle jumping out of
the window when mother came into the
room after book.
At last all was ready. BY means of
a string which one of us could pull
from the kitchen (where ladder was
to furnish safe retreat to terra firma),
a single, holding the weight at the top
OF the chimney, would be jerked out;
and as the weight began to fall the
clock would begin to strike.
The next thing was to get the oppor-
tunity to put our scheme in operation.
Strangely, Mr. Pettijohn's skillful feat
of pulling our door-bell just so as to
cause the bell to ring out three distinct
taps and no more, was not performed
for full week. Fred and | were in
mortal dread every day that our prep
arations would be discovered. Any
day father might take notion to clean
out the parlor fireplace and the Chin
ney. Fortunately he did not, and Mr..
Roger peculiar ring at the door bell
at last pealed on ears that were most
intently listening for that welcome
sound.
We boys slipped out of the kitchen,
where we had been engaged in fierce
debate with Aunt Elizabeth on a prop
osition to keep our pet chickens in the
cellar next winter instead of In the
barn. Our first impulse was to plant
ourselves in position on the roof of the
kitchen ready to pull the string. On
second thought we reflected that our
intended victim would probably spend
the evening, and we concluded to
make the best of our situation by wait.
ing until we thought he ought to be get
ting ready to depart. The better to
ward off suspicion we spent the evening
several blocks away, with some of our
boy friends.
AS we approached the house, little
before ten o'clock, we saw the light
streaming from the parlor window,
and knew our prey was still there.
| took my place at the string, trem-
bling with expectation Of the critical
moment when Fred, who had stationed
himself in the lilac bushes under the
south window of the parlor, should
give me the signal by throwing a peb-
bic on the kitchen roof.
Time, always slow when waited, was
never so slow, it seemed, as during the
full hour waited for the thud of that
pebble on the roof. The night train
came laundering up the valley while I
sat there, and l counted echo after
echo of the shrill whistle of its loco
motive, and traced its snake-like line
of light until it wound around dis
tant hill and was out of sight How
the dogs barked that night! l busted
myself in distinguishing the score or
more of canine voices whose nightly
bayings were familiar in our neighbor-
hood. Now and then old Boze. our
family horse, would shake himself in
his stall and munich his provender for
moment or two, and then cease to
make a living sound. A long story
could be told of the pictures that were
called before my mind by the noises l
heard in that single hour.
Suddenly in the midst of one of these
mental pictures, Fred's pebble fell,
striking me so that pulled the string
without thought of what | was doing.
Hurrying down the ladder, l found
Fred in the lilacs.
The old clock was striking with
nervous staccato that fairly made us
dance with JOY. 1t had then struck
up to eleven. Fred had given the sig
nal just as the sitting-room clock
began to strike.
Flora and her caller were engaged
in a duet, she at the piano and he with
his flute. AS long as the music lasted
we hardly expected they would be dis
turbed by the clock.
For several minutes the piano, flute
and clock kept up the peculiar trio, we
boys enjoying it with gigantic grins
and frequent chuckles. Through
fold of the window curtain we could
see the faces of our victims.
"Han' whispered Fred, "Flo hears
it! See! She thinks something's wrong
with the music"
The players kept on a few minutes
longer, when suddenly Flora stopped.
The flute and clock now had it alone
for moment, and then the sound of
the former ceased, and the clock was
left master of the situation. We were
where we could see Rogers face plain
ly. The puzzled expression that passed
over it and fingered moment was in
descrbable. Flora had not moved
from her place, and sat, with one hand
uplifted from the piano keys, listening
intently and wonderingly to the meas
ured striking, which now seemed
louder than ever. Then We saw
Rogers lips move, and Flora turned
blushing and said something which, of
course, we could not hear. Whatever
it was. they did not seem to under
stand each other any better than we
did.
All OF a sudden both faces turned
toward the sitting-room door. Father
was coming! In a moment he was in
the room, in his dressing-gown, and
holding lamp, as if he had been
searching the house over for the cause
of this unseemly disturbance What
he said we did not bear. 1t must have
been something severe, for Flora
bluShed redder than ever, and des-
perate CLEAN came into Rogers eyes.
Fred and began to realize that we
were in something of scrape. But
we were bound to enjoy it while we
could, and we managed with sharp
ened stick to pry up the window so
we could hear what was going on.
"What on earth does this mean.
Flora?" shouted father.
Poor Flora had buried her bushes in
her hands. and gave no answer.
Father looked from Flora to Roger
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