moonlight, and the deep
shadows of the ragged trees.

Another pistol-shot; then another. The sound came from that part of the
cellar called the soap-room, directly under Polly's feet.

She did not wait for further warning. Every moment was precious. She
meant to save what lives she could, for Polly was strictly
conscientious. She took the nearly frantic Dotty into the china closet,
dragging her like a sack of meal, and turned the key.

"Stay there, child, if you know when you're well off," whispered she
through the keyhole. "The house is blowing up. I'm going to call Abner."

In her consternation Polly had not reflected that Dotty was as likely
to be blown up in the closet as anywhere else. The unfortunate little
girl screamed and struggled in her prison in vain. There was no way of
escape. Night of horrors! As far as she was concerned, there were two
ends to the world, and they were coming right together. Her agony is not
to be described.

Abner came very soon; but it seemed an age. Being a brave man who had
served three months in the army, he had the courage to walk down cellar
and face the enemy.

He found nothing worse, however, than a few bottles of beer which had
blown off their own heads. He brought them up in his arms.

"Here," said he, "are your burglars, with their throats cut from ear to
ear."

"Well, if I ever had such a fright in all the days of my life!" cried
Polly, staring at the bottles, and catching her breath.

Abner poured some of the beer into a goblet, and drank to the health of
Miss Dimple, who climbed upon his knee, and felt as if the world had
suddenly stopped coming to an end; and she was greatly relieved.

"But who fired the guns?" said she, not understanding yet what it all
meant.

"It was only the beer coming out to get the air," said Abner, taking
another glass. "You couldn't expect beer with the spirit of a hop in it
to stay bottled up with a stopper in!"

"I never had such queer feelings," exclaimed Polly, rolling up her eyes;
"and now it's all over, I feel as if I was going to faint away."

"I wouldn't advise you to," said Abner, coolly. "The enemy is routed,
and victory is ours. Drink a little beer, Polly; it will revive your
spirits. But what is the object, may I ask, of your prowling about the
house with this poor little girl at this hour of night?"

"Why, what time is it? I thought by my feelings it must have been
daybreak long enough ago."

It was Abner's private