ore him, the sun-bonnet revealed a rosy little face, more than
usually plump on one side, and a neck enormously wrapped in a scarf. It
was "Meely" (Amelia) Stryker, a schoolmate, detained at home by "mumps,"
as Johnny was previously aware. For, with the famous indiscretion of
some other great heroes, he was about to intrust his secret and his
destiny to one of the weaker sex. And what were the minor possibilities
of contagion to this?
"Playin' hookey ag'in?" said the young lady, with a cordial and even
expansive smile, exclusively confined to one side of her face.
"Um! So'd you be ef you'd bin whar I hev," he said with harrowing
mystery.
"No!--say!" said Meely eagerly.
At which Johnny, clutching at the top of the fence, with hurried breath
told his story. But not all. With the instinct of a true artist he
withheld the manner in which the opening of the cave was revealed, said
nothing about the tree, and, I grieve to say, added the words "Open
Sesame" as the important factor to the operation. Neither did he mention
the name of Spanish Pete. For all of which he was afterwards duly
grateful.
"Meet me at the burnt pine down the crossroads at four o'clock," he said
in conclusion, "and I'll show ye."
"Why not now?" said Meely impatiently.
"Couldn't. Much as my life is worth! Must keep watching out! You come at
four."
And with an assuring nod he released the fence and trotted off. He
returned cautiously in the direction of the cave; he was by no means
sure that the robbers might not return that day, and his mysterious
rendezvous with Meely veiled a certain prudence. And it was well! For as
he stealthily crept around the face of the outcrop, hidden in the ferns,
he saw from the altered angle of the tree that the cavern was opened.
He remained motionless, with bated breath. Then he heard the sound of
subdued voices from the cavern, and a figure emerged from the opening.
Johnny grasped the ferns rigidly to check the dreadful cry that rose to
his lips at its sight. For that figure was his own brother!
There was no mistaking that weak, wicked face, even then flushed with
liquor! Johnny had seen it too often thus. But never before as a thief's
face! He gave a little gasp, and fell back upon that strange reserve of
apathy and reticence in which children are apt to hide their emotions
from us at such a moment. He watched impassively the two other men who
followed his brother out to give him a small bag and some ins
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