ooking knives, and after trying the
points on his finger, proceeded to oil them. This over, he betook himself
to whistling, at the same time, keeping time to his music by drumming his
heel heavily on the floor. This, however, could not last forever; and
finally, wrapping a heavy coat around his shoulders, he stretched himself
at full length in front of the fire, and was soon sound asleep.

Not so his companion. In silence, without stirring, and scarcely
breathing, yet wide awake, with ears alive to every sound, and distorting
every sigh of the wind into the voice of a human being, he sat with white
lips and a shaking hand until the faint chime of a clock, which reached
him even above the noise of the storm, told him that the hour was come.

'Wake up!' said he, touching Jones with his foot. 'It's time to be off.'

Jones, with instinctive quickness, obeyed the call by springing to his
feet, apparently as wide awake as if he had not closed his eyes during the
night.

'All right!' said he, looking hastily about the room. 'Hey! but what's all
this noise?'

'It's a horrible night; all hell seems abroad,' said Craig. 'But come; get
ready, and let's be off.'

'Will we want any of _them_?' asked Jones, pointing to an upper shelf in
the closet, on which was lying a number of uncouth-looking instruments,
the nature of which was best known to themselves.

'Take the small crow; we may want _that_, but nothing more.'

'The bag, too?' inquired Bill.

'No; it's a girl we've to steal; d--n it, I wish it wasn't!'

While he was speaking, he had thrust his arms into a shaggy great-coat,
and was tying a thick woollen wrapper over his mouth, so that the last
remark was nearly lost in it. He then put on an oil-skin cap, not unlike
what is called by sailors a 'sou'-wester,' and stood watching the
proceedings of his comrade, which were by no means as expeditious as his
own; for that gentleman proceeded very leisurely to encase his feet in a
pair of thick woollen stockings, and a pair of shoes more capable of
resisting the wet than those which he then wore. After this, he put an
oil-cloth jacket over his other one, and surmounted the whole by a coat
similar to that worn by Craig.

'One would suppose you was a baby, from your tenderness to yourself,' said
Craig, impatiently. 'You ain't sugar, are you? Do you expect the rain to
melt you?'

'I'm a sweet fellow, I know that,' replied the other, carefully buttoning
his coat to the chin.