Phil's Burglar.

Auckland Star, Volume XII, Issue 3546, 17 December 1881, Page 3 (Supplement)

Phil's Burglar.

[By Fjrank H, Converse.]

I AH Phil Morris, fourteen years old, and the youngest clerk in Covert Savings Bank. The cashier is my Uncle Jack, and he began at the bottom, where I am, when he was a boy. He says that a boy had better grow up with a country bank than go West and grow up with the country. He thinks there's more money in it.

" If there s nnyrning m you," he said one day, " you'll work your way up to be Bank President some time." And I guess it's better to be President of a country Bank than to be President of the United States. Anyway, you wouldn't have to be shot before folks began to find out that you were doing your level best to keep things straight. Uncle Jack says and does such queer things sometimes that people say he's odd. They tell about his being so wrapped up in our Bank that he never had time to hunt up a wife. I notice, though, that when father and mother died, and left mo a wee little baby, Uncle Jack found time to bring mo up. and give me a good education to boot. Oh, he's as pood as gold or Government Bonds, Uncle Jack is.

We live in rooms over the Bank, where old Mrs Halstead keeps house for us. Underneath, we do the business. There's heaps of money in our two big vaults. Last summer— and, mind you, this was while I was on vacation—two men broke into the dwelling. They came upstairs, and into Uncle Jack's room. One had a bull's-eye lantern that ho Hashed in Uncle Jack's face as lie sat up in bed, and the other pointed a big pistol right at his head. "Tell us where the vault keys are, or I'll shoot you," he said. " On, Uncle Jack," I bro\e in, when he was tolling about it, " what did you do?" " What would you have done 2" he asked, in his odd way. "I know wliat I wouldn't have done," I answered him, straightened up a bit—"l wouldn't have given em the keys." "Ah!" Uncle Jack says, kind of half doubtful, and then went [on :—" Well, I tolil them to shoot away.*« And they knew as as I did that shooting would'nt bring them the keys. So when they found they could'nt frighten me, the scoundrels tied me, and went off in a rage, with my watch and pocket-book." That was last summer. One night along in the fall Uncle Jack started olf down town. " It's Lodge night, and I may not be back until late," he said. " You won't mind stayiug alone—a great boy like you," And of course I said "No."

But somehow, after Mrs_ Halstcad went to bed, I found I, did mind it. I don't know what made mo feel so fidgety. Perhaps it was reading about a Bank robbery in Bolton, which is the next town to Covert. It was thought to be the work of Slippery Jim. a notorious burglar. And while 1 was thinking about it, I dozed off in Uncle Jack's easy-chair. _~ .

" Ow-w'-w 1" I sung out at once. And if you'd woke up of a sudden to .see a "roughlooking man, with a slouch hat pulled over his eyes,-standing right in front of you you'd havo done the same. " What—what do you want here ?" I sort of gasped ; and I tried to speak so he wouldn't hear my teeth knock together. "Tho vault keys—where are theyi" he answers, short and gruff. And then he kind of motioned with his hand—l suppose to show the revolver he was holding. 1 was pretty badly scared ; but all the same, I didn't mean he should have those vault koys, if he shot the top of my head off.

"Come, hurry up," he said, with a sort of grin. And I noticed then that he had red whiskers, and some of his upper front teeth wcro gone, so that ho didn't speak his words plain. "I should know you anywhere," I thought. "Strategy, Phil Morris," I said to myself, bracing up inside; for tho story I'd read about how a lady caught a live burglar came across me like a flash. "Please don't shoot, sir," I began to say, -with all sorts of demi-semi-quavers in my vo i ce —"plcaso don't; indeed I'll show you where they're kept." So making believe to shake all over, I took the lamp, and led the way into Uncle Jack's bedroom, "The k-k-k-eys are in th-there, sir," I told him.i | You should have seen my fingers tremble when I pointed to the little store-room that opened out of the chamber. The keys were there, true enough, but'l'd like to see anyone except Uncle Jack or I find < them. I suppose you have heard of such things as secret panels. ; The store-room floor is lower than the chamber floor. Many a time, when I haven't been thinking, I've stepped down with a jar that almost sent my backbone up through the top of my head. "In there, eh?" said my bold burglar, quite cheerful like, and pushed by me to the open door. I , I set the lamp down; and my heart began to beat so that: I-was almost afraid he could hear it. "Now or never," I whispered. ; ■ It was all done quicker than you could say " knife." I put my head down like a billygoat, and ran for the small of his back. "Butted" isn't a nice word, but that's just how I sent him flying headlong into tho closet. I heard him go down with a crash that shook Mrs Halstead's biggest jar of rasberry jam off the shelf. t<l didn't stop to take breath until -I'd locked the door and barricaded it with Uncle Jack's big mahogany bureau—just as the lady did' in the story. Then I hreathed —and-listened. What I heard made my eyes stick out a bit. First I almost feltlike crying; Then 1 laughed until I did cry. I ! suppose ' the excitement made me hystericky. It wasn't ten minutes before I roused, up Mr Simms, the constable, and Jared Peters', who lives next door. Mr Simms brought along an oW pepper-box revolver and"a pair of handcuffs.' Jared Peters had a douple?barrel gun, but in his hurry he forgot to load it. : ' Upstairs Tie hurried. -,-< The two_ men pulled away the .bureau; and Mr Simms, who -was in the army, stationed us in our places^ ■ "'■■'■'■ "Look a-here, you feller," Mr Simms called out, "the strong arm of the law is acoverin' you with deadly weepons. Surrender withoutTeaistance—Phil, yank open the I flung open the door. Jared Peters covered the prisoner with his gun. He was covered with something else, too—Mrs Halstead's raspberry jam, that he'd been wallowing round in. He didn't look proud, though, for all he was so stuck up. Before he could open his mouth, Mr Simms had him handcuffed and dragged out into the chamber. " There," he said, with a long breath, "I guess you won't trargle no more right away." "For goodness' sake, Simms—Peters— don't you know me—Mr John Morris, cashier of the Savings Bank?" That was what the prisoner said just as soon as he could speak. Well, I didn't wait any longer. I )ust bolted for my own room, where I could he down on the floor; and there I lay laughing until I was purple-clear round to my slwnilder-blades. Then I went to bed. "Philip,"1 said Uncle Jack, solemnly, while we were at breakfast next morning, " I should beg your pardon for trying to

tost your courage in the—the consummately idiotic way I took to do it last night, but"— and he looked very sheepish—"l—l think I got the worst of it."

" I think you did, sir," I answered him, choking a bit.

" 'Die disguise was a good one, though," he went on, with a sort of feeble chuckle, "and leavingmy false teeth out, changed my voice completely—eh, Phil?" "Yes, sir—until'you hollered out in the closet that it was all a joke, and wanted me to let you out," I answered him, as I got up and edged toward the door. "Why didn't you let me out then?" roared Uncle Jack, who is rather quicktempered. ,

I hope I wasn't impudent. Truly, I didn't intend to be. "Because, Uncle Jack," I paid, as I turned the doorknob, "I have heard you say more than once that he who cannot take a joke should not make one." And as I dodged through the door I heard Uncle Jack groan.—"Harper's Young People,"