CHAPTER VII A STRANGE BURGLAR

CHAPTER VII

A STRANGE BURGLAR

What was it that had awakened Billie Bradley?

Hardly had the girl asked herself that question when she heard it--a padding, stealthy, creeping noise that made her clutch the bed clothes and draw them tighter about her.

Then in a panic she realized that whatever it was had started upstairs.

Nearer, nearer came the stealthy padding, till Billie realized it had reached the landing. Her scalp crept and her hair began to stand on end. Her door was the nearest to the stairs, and she was all alone in the house with Chet!

Swiftly, she threw off the covers, jumped out of bed, and with her limbs trembling under her, ran to the door and softly turned the key in the lock.

Then she leaned weakly against the door and listened for the noise, but it had stopped. Evidently the burglar, if burglar it was, had paused to get his bearings.

Then another horrible thought struck her. Chet was sleeping in the next room, and Chet's door was unlocked!

On feet that seemed too weak to hold her she crept into Chet's room--luckily there was a connecting door between--and softly turned the key in his door also.

Evidently she was just in time, for as she listened the stealthy noise began again and it was coming toward the very door she had just locked.

She uttered a little involuntary sound, and Chet sat up in bed with a start.

"Wh-what's up?" he demanded sleepily.

"Oh, hush," cried Billie. Scurrying to his bed and leaning over, she whispered the awful words: "There's a burglar in the house, Chet."

"A burglar?" repeated Chet, wide awake by this time. "Who says so?"

"Don't be foolish! Didn't I hear him myself?" cried Billie in a desperate whisper. "Oh, Chet, he's on the stairs outside."

"Well, why doesn't he come in? Is he bashful?" queried Chet, seeming not in the least alarmed. Billie shook him impatiently.

"He probably would have come in if I hadn't locked the doors," she told him impatiently. "For goodness' sake, Chet, wake up and tell me what to do. He may have stolen everything we own by this time."

"Hush," cried Chet, grasping her arm, and in a tense silence they listened.

Yes, they could not be mistaken--something was surely brushing against the door.

Thank heaven, she had locked it, thought Billie, as she began to feel her hair stand on end again.

Once more came that brushing sound. And then, very distinctly, a sniff!

"Oh, Chet," cried Billie, clutching her brother's arm spasmodically.

"Nervy beggar," muttered Chet. "If I had a gun I'd know what to do. But say," he added, as a happy thought struck him, "there's Dad's!" He was out of bed and across the room before Billie could do more than gasp. Fearfully she followed after.

Luckily Chet had elected to sleep in his parents' room during their absence so as to be nearer Billie, and he had happened to remember the secret hiding place that his father had shown him not long before where he kept his revolver always loaded and ready for action.

"Oh, Chet, do be careful!" whispered Billie, as Chet drew the ugly-looking thing out of the hidden drawer and examined it. "I--I think I'm more afraid of that than I am of the b-burglar."

Chet's only answer was a grim "Come on," from between set young lips. Fearfully they made their way over to the door.

Their burglar seemed to have gone on to some other room, for they could hear the stealthy padding at the other end of the hall. But now he had turned in their direction.

Very carefully Chet turned the key in the lock, and then, while Billie pressed both hands over her heart to quiet its pounding, Chet flung open the door and stepped into the hall. Billie was right at his heels.

And then the impossible thing happened. A dark shape coming slowly toward them stopped at sight of them and uttered a low bark.

Yes, the sound that issued from their supposed burglar was a very distinct and friendly canine bark.

For a minute Chet and Billie just stared speechlessly. Then slowly the revolver in Chet's hand dropped to his side and he began to laugh. It was a weak laugh at first, but it gradually swelled into a roar as he took in the full humor of the situation.

And Billie, after a moment during which she seemed undecided whether to laugh or cry, presently joined him.

"A dog!" gasped Chet, when he could get his breath. "Come here, old man, and let's have a look at you."

The dog that had caused all the disturbance came forward at Chet's command and stood looking up at them, his handsome brush waving genially.

As the light of a street lamp shining through the window fell upon him, Billie uttered an exclamation.

"Why, it's Bruce--Nellie Bane's collie," she cried. "How in the world did he ever get in? Come here, Bruce, old boy, and explain yourself."

Obediently Bruce went over to her and laid a cold muzzle in her hand, his soft eyes looking lovingly into her face. For Billie had made much of Bruce on her frequent visits to Nellie Bane, and the dog, with the instinct of his kind, had developed a great liking for her--though the first in his loyal dog's heart was Nellie Bane, his mistress.

"You're a great one!" Chet scoffed. "You get a fellow all worked up to catch a burglar, and then you produce a dog. I think you did it on purpose."

"Yes, and I suppose I scared myself half to death on purpose too," said Billie sarcastically, as she patted the dog's great head. "Where are you going?" she asked, as Chet started back into his room.

"To put this thing where I got it," he explained, holding up the pistol from which Billie shrank back. "Don't imagine we'll have any further need of it to-night."

"Wait a minute," ordered Billie, and Chet turned back surprised. "We haven't found out yet how Bruce got in," she explained, looking fearfully over her shoulder, for the effects of her fright had not quite left her yet. "Don't you think we'd better take that along while we look through the house? We must have left a door or a window open somewhere. Bruce couldn't have come through the wall, you know."

"Something--I don't know what it can be--makes me agree with you," returned Chet sarcastically, but he turned to the stairs nevertheless, "Come on," he said. "If we have left a window open it is high time that that window was shut. Go ahead, Bruce, and show us where you got in--that's a good old boy."

At the best it was rather an eerie business--searching through the empty house at that time of night--and it was especially nerve-trying for Billie after the fright she had had.

And then they found it. The French window that opened from the dining-room upon the porch was swinging wide open--a wonderful invitation to enter for any sneak thief who might happen to pass that way.

Billie shivered again as Chet, with a final pat, put Bruce outside and closed and locked the window.

"There, I guess we won't have any more visitors to-night," he said, as they started through the dark living-room to the stairs.

"Let's hope not," returned Billie fervently.

When they reached their rooms upstairs they felt too excited for sleep, and sat for a long time talking over the incident.

They could laugh now at their surprise in meeting friendly Bruce instead of a very unfriendly house-breaker, but more than once both of them caught themselves listening for sounds in the silent house below.

"It was just luck," said Billie, as she rose at last to go to bed, "that it was Bruce that happened to find that open window instead of--of some one else!"

“One work. Many languages. One reading experience.”