ted of the devil to rob the storekeeper for whom I worked, and so
made myself an outcast and a pariah, who knows but I might have been
at this moment Thomas Burns, Esq., of some municipality, instead of
Tom Burns the tramp. However, it is foolish to speculate about this. I
am what I am, and there is little chance of my being anything else."

So he dismissed the past, and recalled the work he had set for
himself. Everything was still. In the mining village probably there
was not a person awake. It was like a dead town. Everything seemed
favorable to his designs.

There was the store. He could see it already. And now there was
nothing to do but to get in and take the money, which he had no doubt
was waiting ready to his hand.

Perhaps he might be fortunate enough to secure it without waking the
boy. He hoped so, at any rate, for he was not a desperate or cruel
man. He did not wish to injure Ernest unless it should be absolutely
necessary. If he could get along without it, so much the better.

Arriving at his destination, he paused to reconsider.

He did not expect to enter by the front door. He did not as yet know
whether there was any other. But at any rate there must be a window
somewhere, and he preferred to get in that way.

He walked around to the rear of the store, and there he discovered the
window. He had been afraid it might be blockaded with shelves, which
would make entrance difficult, but fortunately this did not appear to
be the case. He stood at the window and looked in.

[Illustration: "He stood at the window and looked in."]

The faint moonlight did not enable him to penetrate the interior very
far, but he could make out something. There were goods of various
kinds scattered about, and he could just see a recumbent figure on a
bed near the counter.

"That's the boy," he said to himself. "I wonder if he is asleep."

There did not seem to be any doubt on this point.

But for the indistinct light, Tom Burns might have thought the
outstretched figure rather large for a boy. But he only glanced at it
furtively.

The next thing to consider was whether the window was fastened. In
that case he would have some difficulty, though for this he was
prepared, having an instrument with which he could cut a pane of
glass, and, thrusting in his hand, unfasten the catch.

But through some strange inadvertence, apparently, the window was not
locked, and much to his relief he had no difficulty in lifting it. I