ttled a bit, perhaps, and the shutters
may have banged a trifle too remorselessly, but the Crows were not to be
disturbed.

The big, old-fashioned clock in the hall downstairs was striking twelve
when Anderson Crow awoke with a start. He was amazed, for to awake in
the middle of the night was an unheard-of proceeding for him. He caught
the clang of the last five strokes from the clock, however, and was
comforting himself with the belief that it was five o'clock, after all,
when his wife stirred nervously.

"Are you awake, Anderson?" she asked softly.

"Yes, Eva, and it's about time to get up. It jest struck five. Doggone,
it's been blowin' cats and dogs outside, ain't it?" he yawned.

"Five? It's twelve-now, don't tell me you counted the strokes, because I
did myself. Ain't it queer we should both git awake at this unearthly
hour?"

"Well," murmured he sleepily now that it was not five o'clock, "it's a
mighty good hour to go back to sleep ag'in, I reckon."

"I thought I heard a noise outside," she persisted.

"I don't blame you," he said, chuckling. "It's been out there all
night."

"I mean something besides the wind. Sounded like some one walkin' on the
front porch."

"Now, look here, Eva, you ain't goin' to git me out there in this
blizzard--in my stockin' feet--lookin' fer robbers--"

"Just the same, Anderson, I'm sure I heard some one. Mebby it's some
poor creature freezin' an' in distress. If I was you, I'd go and look
out there. Please do."

"Doggone, Eva, if you was me you'd be asleep instid of huntin' up
trouble on a night like this. They ain't nothin' down there an'
you--but, by cracky! mebby you're right. Supposin' there is some poor
cuss out there huntin' a place to sleep. I'll go and look;" and Mr.
Crow, the most tender-hearted man in the world, crawled shiveringly but
quickly from the warm bed. In his stocking feet--Anderson slept in his
socks on those bitter nights--he made his way down the front stairs,
grumbling but determined. Mrs. Crow followed close behind, anxious to
verify the claim that routed him from his nest.

"It may be a robber," she chattered, as he pulled aside a front window
curtain. Anderson drew back hastily.

"Well, why in thunder didn't you say so before?" he gasped. "Doggone,
Eva, that's no way to do! He might 'a' fired through the winder at me."

"But he's in the house by this time, if it was a robber," she
whispered. "He wouldn't stand out on the porch all night."