he can't get away. Quick! Quick!"

Mr. Opp had only time to turn from the window when he felt the ladder
seized from below and jerked violently forward. With a terrific crash he
came down with it, and found himself locked in a close struggle with the
supposed burglar. To his excited imagination his adversary seemed a
Titan, with sinews of steel and breath of fire. The combatants rolled
upon the ground and fought for possession of each other's throats. The
conflict, while fierce, was brief. As Hinton and Mrs. Gusty rushed
around the corner of the house, the fighters shouted in unison, "I've
got him!" and Mr. Opp, opening one swollen eye, gazed down into the
mild but bloody features of little Mr. Tucker!

With the instinct that always prompted him to apologize when any one
bumped into him, he withdrew his hands immediately from Mr. Tucker's
throat and began vehement explanations. But Mr. Tucker still clung to
his collar, sputtering wrathful ejaculations. Mrs. Gusty, wrapped in a
bed-quilt, and with her unicorn horn at its most ferocious angle, held
the lamp on high while Hinton rushed between the belligerents.

Excited and incoherent explanations followed, and it was not until Mr.
Opp, who was leaning limply against a tree, regained his breath that the
mystery was cleared up.

"If you will just listen here at me a moment," he implored, holding a
handkerchief to his bruised face. "We are one and all laboring under a
grave error. It's my belief that there ain't any burglar whatsoever here
at present. Mr. Hinton forgot his key and had to climb in the window. I
mistaken him for the burglar, and Mrs. Gusty, here, from what she
relates, mistaken me for him, and not knowing Mr. Hinton had come in,
telephoned our friend Mr. Tucker, and me and Mr. Tucker might be said,
in a general way, to have mistaken each other for him."

"A pretty mess to get us all into!" exclaimed Mrs. Gusty. "A man made
his fortune once 'tending to his own business."

"But, Mrs. Gusty--" began Mr. Opp, indignantly.

Hinton interrupted. "You would better put something on that eye of
yours. It will probably resemble a Whistler 'Nocturne' by morning. What
are you looking for?"

The object lost proved to be Mr. Opp's cherished cornet, and the party
became united in a common cause and joined in the search. Some time
elapsed before the horn was found under the fallen ladder, having
sustained internal injuries which subsequently proved fatal.

When dawn