Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1891-10-29
BILLY, THE BURGLAR.


Were Elected.
The big clock in the old farm house
sitting-room was never in a hurry.
When it struck nine on the evening of
the burglary it did so in a calm, DELHI
crate way, as if it knew that it had
whole hour for the performance. As
the last stroke died away Farmer Ma
nard raised his eyes, looked thought
hlly at the clock and removed his
glasses. The family knew the signal
1t meant "bed time
did you fasten the kitchen door
when you came in, WHIP" asked Mr.
Manard
yep" answered Will
Yep was Wills way of saying ''yes
sir" 1t didn't sound very polite, but
perhaps no one had ever told him so.
Are you sure?" asked Lis father.
Yep. Member hooking it as plain
as can be-"
Half an hour afterward everyone was
in bed and the house was dark and
silent. Out in the sitting-room the
clock licked thoughtfully and from
time to time solemnly tolled the hour,
and the mice scrabbled and squeaked
in their haunts behind the plastering,
but such sounds as these seemed only
to make the night stiffness the deeper.
Ten o'clock, eleven o'clock, twelve
O'Clock pass, and then another hour.
''O-n-e," says the clock, and the mice
squeak in answer. But there is an
other sound. Footsteps on the porch.
They pass softly across it; then one of
the windows rattles. At last they
leave the porch and go around to the
kitchen door. Some one fumbles with
the latch for a moment, and then the
door swings open.
All, VIII Manard, you did not hook
that door after all, though you did say
yep" with such assurance. Now,
judging by the sounds, two somebodies
enter the kitchen. From the kitchen
they pass into the pantry and all is
still again Tick-ticI-ticl1," says the
clock in the room beyond. What can
the burglars be doing in the pantry?
VIII they never come out?
''Crash!"
Mr.. Manard breaks right off in the
middle of huge snore and sits up in
bed. Was that the noise of falling tin.
ware or did he dream it? Mrs Manard
awakes and listens too. But everything
is still.
You ate too much of that chicken
pie, Aft. 1t has given you bad dreams, >
says Mrs Manard. going to sleep again.
But Mr. Manard is too nervous to do
more than doze.
What wa that? A noise in the sitting.
room this time. Mr.. Manard is wide
awake once more and listening with
strained ears. He touches his wife.
WHAT" asks she, in loud voice.
''Sh-h-h-h.' warns her husband.
whats the matter, Alf?"
''Sh-h-h!'' is the only answer. Then
Mr.. Manard slips ont of bed and creeps
softly to the corner of the room where
he keeps his shotgun. The gun is not
loaded, but he forgets all about that.
Out into the sitting-room goes Mr..
Manard, his good wife close at his
heels. AS they enter the room there is
a sound like someone running against
a chair in the darkness. "Who is there?"
demands Mr.. Manard
answer before we break your
heads, adds another voice, and beside
him stand the hired man and VIII.
BE careful" whispers the former,
there are two of them. win and l
have been awake and listening for some
time, and thought we had better come
down stairs and investigate"
0, if that gun were only loaded! But
Mr.. Manard suddenly remembers it is
not.
Again'a slight noise. With a chair
raised over his head the hired man
,...l,4
sound now comes. A moment more
and there is cry of anguish 20, they
have got me! They are killing me, " he
bowls. His friends rush to the rescue,
and Mrs Manard, trembling with fear,
raises above her head the candle
which she has at last succeeded in
lighting. 1t flares and fiicl1ers in the
draft but its light is sufficient to show
them the retreating form of the hired
man as he makes his way swiftly
through the woodshed beyond and out
into the open air. But before they can
see more, Mrs Manard is attacked from
behind and thrown violently forward.
Her light goes out and She falls against
somebody. 1t is only VIII; but she,
supposing it is one of the burglars,
screams with fright. In a panic, they
all rush for the woodshed, eager to get
out of the house. for the darkness there
is full of unknown terrors.
But if there are terrors behind there
are terrors before also. AS they all
tumble recklessly into the woodshed the
air is filed with snorts and grunts and
queer hoarse barkings, and immediate
ly the open doorway is full of pigs.
One big mother hog slips through,
then another, and then the doorway IS
erammed with pigs-struggling, squeal-
ing, half-grown little fellows-each try