CHAPTER XIX.
THE NIGHT ALARM.
On Sunday night, or, rather, Monday morning, within a few minutes of thehour of three (Captain Aaron Quinn afterward swore it was at six bellsprecisely) occurred the explosion which, although muffled and faintlyheard by two persons only, was of sufficient importance to shake Oakdalevillage to its very foundations. The only person actually to hear theexplosion, besides the old sailor, who could not sleep well on accountof his rheumatism, was Jonas Sylvester, the fat and pompous villagenight-watch. With the establishment of the bank the town authorities haddecided that a night guard must be employed to patrol the streets, andSylvester, whose qualifications may be summed up briefly by thestatement that he weighed nearly three hundred pounds and had no regularemployment, was chosen for the job.
With his greatcoat brass-buttoned tightly to the chin, Officer Sylvesterhad paused at the end of Main Street bridge, the southern limit of hisbeat, and was stamping his feet and thumping his mittened hands togetherwhen, as he stated later, he heard something like the closing of adistant heavy door, which seemed accompanied by a slight shock orjarring of the ground. Wondering vaguely what it was, and recalling thathe had heard that earthquakes, however slight, almost always manifestedthemselves by several recurring detonations, Jonas ceased stamping andthumping and stood quite still in the muffling darkness, his lips partedas he listened.
“Hokey!” he muttered presently. “What was it? ’Twasn’t thunder, for it’sout of season, and I’m too fur away to hear a horse kicking up in thelivery stable. The bank——”
Immediately he started puffingly up the street toward the new bankbuilding.
The clock in the steeple of the Methodist church struck three.
In the meantime, Captain Quinn had been further aroused by his monkey.Chattering excitedly, the creature leaped upon the old sailor’s breastand began tweaking at his hair.
“Quit it, ye swab!” rasped the old salt, thrusting the monkey away.“Back to the fo’cas’le, you imp of mischief. Leave me alone, you scrub,or I’ll give you a douse of bilge-water.”
But Jocko refused to be repulsed by his irascible master. His chatteringrose to a squeaking shriek as he returned with a bound and gave adistressing tug at the captain’s whiskers.
“Keelhaul me!” roared Quinn, struggling up and casting the animal to thefloor. “I’ll throw you into the hold and keep you under the hatches forthe rest of the voyage if you try it again, you spawn!”
Even though he now kept beyond his master’s reach, the monkey persistedin such a chattering uproar and dashed about the dark room in such afrantic manner that the wondering man, groaning at the necessity,hoisted himself out of bed, struck a match and looked at the brass-boundship’s clock which hung near at hand upon the wall.
“There’s something the matter,” decided Quinn, dropping the burningmatch as the flame threatened to scorch his fingers. Then, forgettingthat he was undressed, from force of habit he placed his bare foot uponthe match to extinguish it.
The racket made by the monkey was nothing in comparison to the roar thatbroke from the lips of the now thoroughly awakened man, and had anyonewitnessed the tremendous jump which Captain Quinn made he would havefancied the old tar suddenly cured of his rheumatism. The language whichburst in a torrent from Quinn’s lips was of a decidedly sulphurousnature.
“You imp of the Old Nick!” he bellowed, making a dive and a grab for theelusive monkey. “I’ll wring your neck if I get my two hooks on it!”
Jocko, however, bounding over the furniture, skimming the length of ashelf, and seeming to swing himself along one of the bare walls of theroom, perched on a window ledge beyond immediate reach. If possible,Captain Quinn was further aroused and enraged by barking his shins upona chair.
“Furies!” he breathed. “Where’s my gun? I’ll blow a porthole in the hideof that infernal pest!”
As if realizing the peril to his very life, Jocko yanked away a mass ofold rags which had completely filled the opening left by a brokenwindowpane, and darted through the aperture.
At about this moment Officer Sylvester, hastily approaching the front ofthe bank, fancied he saw a dark figure dart around a corner of thebuilding and disappear. Shivering, more from excitement and exertionthan from the cold, the night-watch pursued that shadowy figure, weaponin hand. At the back of the building he paused, hearing the voice of theold sailor raging within the nearby shanty.
“I s’pose it’s that old fool that’s made the disturbance,” mutteredJonas doubtfully. “Still, I kinder thought I saw something.”
Producing the electric torch he always carried while on duty, he flashedthe light around him, making almost a complete arc of a circle. Suddenlythe light stopped, bearing full upon an iron-barred window in the rearof the bank building, and there it hung quivering, revealing toSylvester’s bulging eyes a most astounding and disturbing fact.
Three of the bars had been cut completely off and bent outward, andbeyond them an entire section of the window glass was missing, leavingan opening large enough to admit the body of a man.
Almost paralyzed by this amazing discovery, Officer Sylvester felt histhick knees growing weak beneath him.
“Robbers,” he gasped—“robbers, by the jumping jingoes!”
That very instant there was a flash in the nearby shadows, and, with thereport of a pistol, a bullet almost grazed the torch in Sylvester’shand.
The night-watch did not hesitate upon the order of his going, but wentat once. With a yell of terror he took to his heels, and his wild shoutof “Robbers! robbers!” resounded through the main part of the village ashe dashed toward the public square near the post-office. Reaching thesquare, he increased his efforts to arouse the townspeople by firing hisrevolver several times into the air.
“Marlin spikes and belaying pins!” spluttered Captain Quinn, stillgroping for his shotgun. “There’s blazes to pay! The monk wasn’t such afool, after all.”
Presently, gun in hand, he flung open his door and stood peering intothe night. He could hear the courageous night-watch shouting from thesquare and firing his revolver. But what interested Aaron Quinn far morewas the sight of two figures which seemed to drop from the rear windowof the bank and run away into the darkness.
“Shades of Neptune!” said Captain Quinn. “It’s piracy on the high seas!”
Somewhat tardily, he got into action, lifting the gun and firing intothe darkness which had swallowed the fleeing figures.