took the little pocket-book from my trembling hand; he opened it
with cold-blooded slowness, took out a long strip of printed paper
Cousin Dempster had told me to take care of, and tore it in two before
my face. Then he put one of the pieces back, while I lay shaking and
being shook till the teeth chattered in my head.

"Spare me," says I, with the plaintive wail of a heroine. "Take all I
have, pocket-book and all, but, oh, spare me; spare me!"

He held my pocket-book towards me. I shivered, I shrunk; my hand crept
forth like a poor timid mouse, and darted back again.

The man--this stealthy railway burglar--seemed touched with compassion.
My helpless innocence had evidently made an impression even on his
hardened nature; he laid the pocket-book gently on the pillow, and
modestly turned his one-eyed lantern away, pitying my confusion, and
feeling, as any man with a heart in his bosom must, that I was scared
out of a week's growth.

I breathed again. My heart swelled with thankfulness that a great danger
was passed. I pushed back the blankets, and looked out while a timid
shudder crept over me.

The man was there yet, stooping down to Cousin E. E.'s bunk. I heard
paper rustle. Had he spared me to rob her? Why didn't she scream? Why
didn't she command the creature to leave her presence?

Robbery was nothing, but that cool way of breaking in upon two sleeping
females had the ferocity of a wild beast in it. Was he killing my
cousin--smothering her with pillows so that she could not scream out?
The thought drove me frantic. My arms were goose-pimpled like a grater.

"Why don't you order him out? Why don't you scream for Dempster?" says
I, feeling a thrill of hysterics creeping over me. "If you don't, I
must.

"All right," says the burglarious wretch, giving us the dark side of his
lantern, and slamming the door. Then all was mournfully still. I half
rose and leaned over my bunk, pale, breathless.

"Oh, cousin! speak to me if you are alive," I pleaded.

"What is it; what is the matter, Phoemie?" says a sleepy voice from
below.

"Ah, thank Heaven, you are alive!" I cried, a-clasping my hands in a
sweet ecstasy of gratitude. "Did he attempt to strangle you?"

"He. Who?"

"Why, that man. That prowling monster, with the one-eyed lantern!"

"Oh, he only wanted my ticket; he meant no harm," says she, more than
half asleep.

I drew back into my bunk, and let her go to sleep. Ignorance _is_ bliss.
She felt safe, an