Alger Horatio Jr.
Andy Gordon

CHAPTER XIV.
ANDY IS BESIEGED

My readers will admit that to awaken from sleep, and see a man looking in at the window, is sufficient to startle a brave man. When it is added that the face bore the unmistakable mark of bad passions and a lawless life, it will be understood that Andy might well have been excused for momentary terror.

He was, however, partly prepared for the visit by the knowledge that there was money in the house, which he was especially commissioned to guard. Still, he had not really supposed there was any danger of a burglar coming to so quiet a village as Hamilton in pursuit of money.

Besides, no one but himself, so he supposed, knew that the maiden ladies had a large sum of money in their dwelling.

I will not deny that Andy was startled – I will not admit that he was frightened, for this is inconsistent with his conduct.

He certainly had not awakened any too soon. There was not a minute to lose. The burglar was trying to raise the window, preparatory to entering the room.

In this, however, he met with a difficulty. The window was fastened at the middle, and he could not raise it.

“Curse the bolt!” exclaimed the disappointed burglar. “I shall have to smash it in!”

Just then, however, Andy sprang from the bed, and, under the circumstances, Hogan felt glad. He could frighten the boy into turning the fastening, and admitting him.

As Andy rose, he grasped the old musket, and, not without a thrill of excitement, faced the scoundrel.

If the gun had been loaded, he would have felt safe, but he knew very well that he could do no harm with it.

Mike Hogan saw the gun, but he was not a coward, and he felt convinced that Andy would not dare to use it, though he supposed it to be loaded.

“What do you want?” called out Andy, in a firm voice.

“Open this window!” cried Hogan, in a tone of command.

He was not afraid of being heard by other parties, on account of the isolated position of the house.

As he spoke, he tugged at the frame of the window; but, of course, without success.

“Why should I?” returned Andy, who wanted time to think.

“Never mind, you young jackanapes. Do as I tell you!” said Hogan, fiercely.

As he spoke, overcome by his irritation at being foiled when close upon the treasure he coveted, he smashed a pane with his fist, but not without cutting his hand and drawing blood.

Through the fractured pane Andy could hear him more distinctly.

“What do you want?” repeated Andy.

“I want that five hundred dollars you are guarding, and I mean to have it!” returned Hogan.

“What five hundred dollars?” asked Andy, but he could not help being startled by the accurate information of the burglar.

“Oh, you needn’t play ignorant!” said Hogan, impatiently. “The lady who lives here sent for you to take care of it. She might as well have engaged a baby,” he added, contemptuously.

“You will find I am something more than a baby!” said Andy, stoutly.

“Open this window, I tell you once again.”

“I won’t!” said Andy, shortly.

“You won’t, hey? Do you know what I will do with you when I get in?” demanded Hogan, furiously.

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ll beat you black and blue.”

“You’ll have to get in first,” said our hero, undaunted.

“Do you think I can’t?”

Hogan spoke with assumed confidence, but he realized that it would not be easy if Andy held out. He had already had a severe experience in breaking one pane of glass, and shrank from trying another.

“I know you can’t,” said Andy, and he raised the gun significantly to his shoulder and held it pointed toward the burglar.

“Put down that gun!” shouted Hogan.

“Then leave the window.”

“Just wait till I get at you,” said Hogan, grinding his teeth.

He realized that Andy was not as easily scared as he anticipated. To be balked by a mere boy was galling to him. If he only had a pistol himself; but he had none. He had had one when he left New York, but he had sold it for two dollars, fifty miles away. He was positively helpless, while Andy had him at a disadvantage. Should he give up his intended robbery? That would be a bitter disappointment, for he was penniless, and five hundred dollars would be a great windfall for him. An idea came to him.

“Put down your gun,” he said, in a milder tone. “I have something to propose to you.”

In some surprise, Andy complied with his request.

“There are five hundred dollars in this house.”

“You say so,” said Andy, non-committally.

“Pooh! I know there are. That is a large sum of money.”

“I suppose it is,” said Andy, who did not understand his drift.

“So is half of it. Two hundred and fifty dollars would be a big sum for a boy like you.”

“What have I to do with it?” asked Andy, puzzled.

“Open this window and let me in, and I’ll share the money with you.”

“Oh, that’s what you mean, is it?”

“Yes. No one need know that you have part of the money. It will be thought that I have made off with all of it.”

“Then you think I am a thief, like yourself?” exclaimed Andy, indignantly. “You are very much mistaken. Even if this money were in the house, I wouldn’t take a cent of it.”

“Oh, you’re mighty honest! And I’m a thief, am I?” sneered Hogan, surveying our hero with an ugly look.

“Yes,” answered Andy.

“You’ll repent your impudence,” said Hogan, with a vindictive scowl.

As he spoke, he enlarged the hole in the pane, and, putting in his hand, attempted, by thrusting it upward, to unlock the fastening.

Had he succeeded in doing this, he could have raised the window easily, and, once in the chamber, our young hero would have been no match for him.

Andy realized this, and saw that he must act instantly.

He brought down the butt end of the musket on the intruding hand with all his strength, the result being a howl of pain from the burglar.

“You’d better give that up,” said Andy, his eyes flashing with excitement.

Somehow all his timidity had vanished, and he was firmly resolved to defend the property, intrusted to his charge as long as his strength or shrewdness enabled him to do so.

“Your life shall pay for this,” exclaimed the injured burglar, with a terrible oath.

Andy realized that he would fare badly if he should fall into the clutches of the villain, whose face was actually distorted by rage and pain. The extremity of his danger, however, only nerved him for continued resistance.

“Once more, will you open the window?” demanded Hogan, who would not have parleyed so long if he had known any way to get in without Andy’s help.

“No, I won’t!” answered Andy with resolution.

Mike Hogan surveyed the window, and considered whether it would be feasible to throw his burly frame against it, and so crush it in. Undoubtedly he could have done it had he been on the same level, but it was about three feet higher than he, and so the feat would be more difficult. Besides, it would be a work of time, and Andy, in whom he found much more boldness than he anticipated, might shoot him.

A thought came to him, and he began to descend the sloping roof.

“What is he going to do now?” thought Andy. “Has he given it up as a bad job?”

This was a point which he could not determine.

CHAPTER XV.
AN EXCITING SCENE

Hogan had not given it up as a bad job. Andy’s unexpected resistance only made him the more determined to effect his object. Besides the natural desire to obtain so large a booty, he thirsted for revenge upon Andy.

“The boy’s plucky!” he muttered, as he descended from the roof; “but I’ll be even with him yet.”

He had to descend cautiously, for the shingles were slippery, but he finally reached the lowest point and jumped down.

“If I could only find an ax or a hatchet,” he said to himself, “I would make short work of the window. I don’t believe the boy will dare to shoot.”

He searched for the articles he had named, but in vain.

“What can I take?” he thought, perplexed.

His eyes fell upon a thick club, not unlike a baseball bat, and this seemed to him suitable for his purpose. He took it and commenced reascending to the roof again. There was a fence, which helped him as a stepping-stone, otherwise he would have found it difficult to get a footing upon it. Meanwhile Andy had not been idle.

First of all, he saw that it was unsafe to have the money any longer in his custody. His assailant might be successful in the new attempt he would probably make, and he must not find the bank bills.

Andy did not like to frighten the ladies, but he thought it necessary, under the circumstances. He went to the door of the parlor chamber, which the two sisters occupied, and rapped loudly on the door.

The knock was heard, and it excited dismay. The timid ladies thought it might be the burglar of whom they were so much in fear.

“Who’s there?” asked Miss Susan, in trembling accents, through the keyhole.

“It’s me – Andy. Please open the door – quick!”

“What has happened?” demanded Miss Susan, in agitation.

“I want to hand you the trunk,” answered Andy.

“What for? Is there any burglar in the house?”

“No; but there’s one trying to get into my room.”

“Oh, heavens! what shall we do?” ejaculated both ladies, in chorus.

“Take the tin trunk, and I’ll manage him,” said Andy.

The door was opened a crack and the trunk taken into the trembling hands of the agitated spinster.

“Where is the burglar?” answered Susan.

“Gone to find something to break through the window.”

“Oh, dear, he will murder us all!”

“No, he won’t,” said Andy. “I won’t let him!”

“You’d better hide,” said Susan. “Is he a big man?”

“Pretty large. He looks as if he was just out of jail.”

“He mustn’t hurt you. I’d rather he had the money. Take it and give it to him and ask him to go.”

“Not much!” answered Andy, stoutly. “But I must go. He’ll soon be at the window again. Is there any hot water in the house?”

“Yes; we keep a fire all night in the kitchen, and the teakettle is full.”

“All right!” said Andy, and he dashed downstairs.

“What’s he going to do?” ejaculated Susan, in surprise.

“Heaven only knows! How can he talk of hot water when there’s a burglar in the house? Lock the door, Sister Susan.”

“I don’t like to shut out poor Andy,” said Susan, in a distressed voice. “It’s my belief we shall find him a mangled corpse to-morrow morning, when we go downstairs.”

“I shan’t dare to go down at all. Oh, Susan, this is awful!”

Leaving the agitated spinsters in their trouble and terror, we must look after Andy.

He ran downstairs, seized the teakettle from the stove, grabbed a tin dipper, and then ran up to his chamber again.

He was just in time.

There, before the window, stood Mike Hogan, with the club in his hand and a look of triumph on his face. In the dim light, he did not see the teakettle.

“Well, my little bantam,” said he, “here I am again!”

“So I see,” said Andy, coolly.

“Once more, and for the last time, I ask you to open that window.”

“I would rather not.”

“You will, if you know what is best for yourself. Do you see this club?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you know what it is for?”

“Suppose you tell me.”

“It is to break open the window.”

“That is what I thought.”

“Comfound the boy! He’s a cool customer,” thought Hogan. “Bah! he must be a fool. Open that window, and I’ll give you ten dollars of the money,” he said, preferring, if possible, to avoid all trouble.

Of course, when he was fairly in possession of the money, he could break his promise and give Andy a beating, and he proposed to do both.

“A little while ago you offered me half the money,” said Andy.

“Things were different then. I didn’t have this club. What do you say?”

“That I am not a thief, and don’t mean to make a bargain with a thief!” answered Andy, resolutely.

“Then you may take the consequences, you young rascal!” exploded the burglar, garnishing his speech with an oath.

“In two minutes, I shall have you in my clutches!”

He swung back the club and brought it down with full force upon the window frame. Of course, the panes were shivered and the frail wooden sticks which constituted the frame were demolished. Another blow and the window lay in ruins on the carpet of Andy’s chamber.

“He’s killing Andy!” ejaculated the terrified spinsters, as the loud noise came to their ears. “What shall we do?”

They debated whether they should leave their chamber, and, seeking the scene of the tragedy, fall down on their knees before the terrible burglar and implore him to spare the life of their young defender. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak, and in terrible agitation they remained in their sanctuary.

“The crisis has come,” thought Andy, his nerves quivering with excitement.

And, unobserved by the triumphant burglar, he poured out the scalding hot water from the teakettle into the tin dipper.

Mike Hogan was in the act of scaling the window-sill, over the debris of the broken glass and wood, when Andy dashed the contents of the tin dipper into his face.

There was a fearful yell as the hot water deluged his face and neck, and the scalded burglar, losing his hold on the sill, blinded and maddened by pain, lost his footing and slipped down the sloping roof with ever-increasing rapidity. He rolled over at the eaves, and fell upon his back with a violence which lamed, though it did not disable him – a thoroughly demoralized burglar.

There was a pump and a trough in the yard. Hogan jumped up and ran hastily to it. He dipped his scalded face in the stream of water, and gained temporary relief. But the pain was altogether too great to allow him to think of anything else except that. To a man in his condition, money had no charms. A relief from pain was all he could think of. Again and again he dipped his face in the cool water, and his pain was somewhat abated.

“Oh, the young villain!” he groaned. “I wish I had him here. I’d tear him limb from limb.”

“Poor fellow!” thought Andy, pitying the poor wretch, though the imminent danger had forced him to inflict suffering upon him. “I am sorry for his pain, but I couldn’t defend myself in any other way. He won’t try to get in again, I’m thinking.”

He locked the door of the room from the outside, and decided to spend the rest of the night upon the sofa in the sitting-room. First, however, he went to the room of the old ladies, to tell them that the danger was past.

CHAPTER XVI.
EXCITEMENT IN THE VILLAGE

For the remainder of the night, Andy, as the saying is, slept with one eye open. The burglar had enough to think of, and it seemed very unlikely that he would make another attempt to enter the house. Still, Andy thought it best to watch him.

Through the window he could see Hogan dipping his face again and again in the trough. This continued for perhaps half an hour. Then he slowly left the yard, but not without shaking his fist at the house which contained the young hero who had balked him in his unlawful designs. To be brief, for the remainder of the night the house had rest.

Early in the morning the two sisters came downstairs. Andy, who had dressed himself, to be prepared for an emergency, was lying on the sofa, sleeping peacefully.

“Poor boy!” murmured Susan. “What a terrible night he must have passed!”

“And all in our defense, too. I never dreamed that he was so brave.”

“It’s a mercy the burglar didn’t carry him off.”

“It was the money he wanted, sister.”

“But he might have killed Andy.”

“That is true. It seems to me, sister, we ought to pay him handsomely for what he has done.”

“I am quite of your opinion, Sister Sally. How much do you think we ought to give him?”

“I wouldn’t do what he did for fifty dollars.”

“Shall it be fifty dollars, then?”

“If you are willing.”

“I am quite willing. Do you dare to go up with me into the chamber overhead?”

“I don’t know. It makes me tremble to think of it.”

Finally the two sisters mustered the necessary courage and cautiously crept upstairs, and paused before the door, which was locked upon the outside.

“Suppose the wicked man is inside?” suggested Susan, trembling.

“Oh, there is no fear! He wouldn’t care to stay after he found the money gone.”

With some apprehension, they opened the door. When they saw the wreck of glass and wood upon the carpet, they raised their hands in dismay.

“What a terrible fight poor Andy must have had!” said Susan.

“He has done better than a man,” exclaimed Sally, enthusiastically.

I am inclined to think that Miss Sally was right, and that many men would have displayed less boldness and shrewdness than our young hero.

“Why, here is the teakettle!” said Sally. “How in the world did it come here?”

“And here is the tin dipper. Well, Andy will tell us when he wakes up. We must give him a good breakfast. He deserves it, after all he has done.”

At eight o’clock, Andy sat down to a nice breakfast. It seemed that neither of the two ladies could express sufficient gratitude, or induce him to eat enough.

“But for you, Andy, we might have been murdered in our beds.”

“I don’t think so,” answered Andy, modestly; “but I think you would have lost your money.”

“That we should! Now tell us all about it.”

So Andy told the story, amid exclamations of wonder and admiration from the two sisters.

“How in the world could the man know we had so much money in the house?” said Susan, in wonder.

“He seemed to know just how much there was,” said Andy. “He mentioned the amount. I think he must have overheard one of you speaking of it.”

“I didn’t really suppose there was any burglar about,” said Sally. “How lucky it was that we engaged you to come and stay here!”

Andy was modest, but he could not, with truth, disclaim this praise. He knew very well that he had been instrumental, under Providence, in saving the old ladies from being robbed.

“I don’t know whether you would be willing to stay here to-night, Andy, after the experience you had last night,” said Sally.

“Oh, yes!”

“And you are not afraid?”

“I don’t think the man will come again,” said Andy, laughing. “I don’t believe he liked the reception I gave him. He knows how it feels to get into hot water.”

It is needless to say that the news of the midnight attack upon the house of the Peabody sisters spread like wildfire through the village.

Probably not less than a hundred persons called to see the demolished window, and Andy had to tell the story over and over till he was weary of it.

Among those who were interested was Herbert Ross. He suspected, and rightly, that it was the same man who had stopped at his father’s gate, and nearly strangled his dog Prince.

He felt that if this was so, a part of the public interest would center upon him, and accordingly, forgetting his recent difficulty with Andy, he cross-questioned our hero as to the appearance of the burglar.

“Did he have black hair?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And a face that had not been shaved for a week?”

“Yes; as well as I could see in the dim light.”

“And wasn’t very tall?”

“No; he was rather short and thickset, with a ragged suit of clothes.”

“It’s the very man that called at our house!” exclaimed Herbert, in excitement.

Of course, he was questioned, and gave an account of the call of Hogan, in which he appeared to considerably greater advantage than he had actually done.

“He was very impudent,” said Herbert, boastfully; “but I gave him to understand that I would have him arrested if he didn’t leave pretty quick.”

“Did that frighten him?” asked a neighbor, with a queer smile.

“Oh, yes,” said Herbert. “He saw that he had hold of the wrong customer, and tramped off in a different direction.”

“What would you have done if you had been in Andy’s place last night?”

“I wouldn’t have let him in.”

“But do you think you could have driven him off?”

“Certainly,” answered Herbert, confidently. “Andy did very well,” he added, condescendingly; “but I should have succeeded as well in keeping the rascal out of the house.”

“Why don’t you offer to stay at the house to-night? No doubt, Andy will be glad to rest?”

“I don’t let myself out for any such purpose,” said Herbert, hastily. “He is a poor boy, and needs the money. You wouldn’t expect a gentleman’s son to engage in any such business?”

“Andy is a gentleman’s son. If ever there was a gentleman, Mr. Gordon was one.”

“No doubt he was a very worthy man,” said Herbert, patronizingly; “but that isn’t what I mean.”

Herbert succeeded in his wish to draw attention to himself, and told the story of his encounter with the tramp and burglar many times – adding a little every time – till, by dint of repetitions, he persuaded himself that he had acted a very heroic part, and was entitled to share the honors of the day with Andy.

Unlike our hero, he was perfectly willing to tell the story over and over as many times as he could obtain a fresh auditor.

On Monday morning, Andy’s guard was over; but there was still a service which the old ladies desired of him.

The money was to be deposited in the Cranston Bank, located six miles away. There was no railroad connecting the two places, and the road was a lonely one, extending part of the way through the woods.

On previous occasions, the ladies had themselves gone to the bank, when they had occasion to deposit money, but the recent attempt at burglary had so terrified them that they felt afraid to venture.

In their emergency, they thought of Andy, and asked him if he would be willing to drive over and carry the money with him.

“Oh, yes!” answered Andy, who was fond of driving. “I couldn’t go till I had attended to my duties at the academy, but I should be through by nine o’clock.”

“That would be early enough. But you would lose school.”

“Only for half a day, and Dr. Euclid would excuse me.”

So it was arranged that Andy was to carry the five hundred dollars to the Cranston Bank.