Jerrys Reward | Page 9

own."
Then the little man stationed himself behind the window-blind, although it was a good two hours before the time set by the thieves. It was well he did so, for at half-past four a man with a bundle rang the door-bell at the side entrance of the Morton house.
"He's ahead of time," said Jerry. "I wonder if them p'lices are behind the convent gate?"
The nurse-girl opened the door so quickly that she had evidently been on the watch. The man slipped in, and Jerry noted that he was big and brawny.
"It's going to be a mean job to tackle that fellow," he thought. Then he went to a pile of things in a corner, and selected a stout hickory stick.
He watched awhile longer, but nothing else happened. It grew dark. He kissed Peggy, who held him tight a moment, looked into his eyes lovingly, but did not protest or cry, as some wives would have done. He waved his hand as he left the door, and, keeping close to the convent wall, crossed the common. Into the Mortons' gate he slipped, and before anyone could say "Jack Robinson" he had crept under the steps of the side entrance.
He carried his good stick.
"They'll have pistols sure, and knives maybe, but give me a good whack with this at close range, and I'll beat 'em, pistols and all."
His position was cramped and uncomfortable, but he did not care. He crouched into as small a space as possible. The time seemed long, but he never thought of giving up; he was there to stay.
The convent bell tolled the hours: eight, nine, ten. Then a step, soft and slow on the pavement, and he saw two feet. Another step as noiseless as a wild beast's; and he saw two more feet.
Jerry was right. There were three men instead of two--one inside, two out.
Presently came whispered words too low for him to catch, and he heard a bolt cautiously slipped.
One pair of feet disappeared; the other pair remained. This fellow on the outside would prevent the police from surprising the two within. Should Jerry tackle the watching burglar now or wait?
"I wonder how many more of them there are?" thought Jerry, as he took firm hold of his club, and eyed the waiting feet, scarcely daring to breathe.
In the meantime, the police stationed back and front had seen the two men arrive and one enter; but, not having reached the convent gate early enough, they did not know that a third man was within. They kept guard and thought they had a sure thing of nabbing the burglars as they emerged with their spoils.
Then suddenly the stillness of the hour was broken by the loud report of a pistol not half a square away. All the policemen rushed in the direction of the sound, and saw a man fleeing in the distance. Two of them pursued him, blowing their whistles as they ran. The other two stopped to argue whether they had better help their comrades or return to their former hiding-place.
But while they talked an exciting scene had occurred. As soon as the shot was fired the thief on the outside made a break for the gate. Jerry started after him, but the rogue jumped the fence, and ran off, so, not to waste time in a fruitless chase, the crooked little old man turned back to find himself confronted by two more fugitives. For the shot on the outside was a prearranged warning of danger, and as soon as the burglars on the inside heard it, they rushed from the house with their booty.
They, too, were about to jump the fence when Jerry, wondering what the police were doing, and desperate at the idea of all three of the rascals eluding them, sprang at them brandishing his club and yelling like a dozen Comanche Indians.
At the same time Mr. Morton appeared at the door with a shot-gun, and the burglars, thinking they had twenty foes instead of two, began a fight for life.
Mr. Morton stood framed in the doorway with a bright light behind him. The man nearest Jerry, the same strapping fellow who had entered in the afternoon, raised his arm, and there was a flash of metal as he took steady aim at Mr. Morton's breast. Another instant, and ten little children would have been fatherless; but a resounding whack from a hickory stick sent a shot into the air, and the hand that held the pistol dropped, nerveless. The would-be murderer tottered a few steps, then fell in a heap on the grass.
The remaining burglar, seeing that the game was up, dropped his plunder, and started to run. But, as luck would have it, he ran straight into the arms of the two policemen, who were returning to the spot