UNCLE JIM'S BURGLAR

by Marshall Saunders
(1861-1947)

       IT was Christmas eve in Southern California. Mother had driven us all out to the back veranda, where we sat looking at the moon, and the rose and heliotrope hushes, and at Aunt Mollie, who was walking slowly up and down with a little white shawl over her shoulders.

       The younger children were trembling with excitement, and we older ones were — well, we were considerably interested. Inside the house, mother and father were filling the stockings.

       "Dear Aunt Mollie," I pleaded, at last, "do tell us a story to compose our minds."

       "What shall I tell you?" she asked, turning her brown head toward us.

       "Oh, something beginning with, 'When I was a girl in Maine.'"

       "When I was a girl — then it must have Uncle Jim in it."

       At this there was a burst of applause. Sailor Uncle Jim was one of the chief favourites among our host of relatives.

       "Thweet Uncle Jim," said lisping sister Sue, "I wonder where he ith?"

       "He's on the wing wherever he is," responded Aunt Mollie. "There's nothing stationary about him. He wrote me that he wanted to go to Tibet."

       "To Tibet!" exclaimed my mother, suddenly putting her head out through an open window behind us. "Oh, I hope not."

       "He said he wanted to," replied Aunt Mollie, "but perhaps he won't be able to. I wish he would come here."

       "So do I,'" said we all, and immediately there arose before us a vision of Uncle Jim's round head, his closely cropped iron-gray hair, his determined mouth and chin, and his jolly laugh. Oh, he was a darling!

       "I have it!" exclaimed Aunt Mollie. "Our mention of Uncle Jim has reminded me that in his last letter he asked me to tell you a story that he knew I would not relate without his permission. He says it may do you good."

       "Oh, I hope it is a Christmas story," cried Rob, with sparkling eyes, "with snow and ice, and whirling icicles in it!"

       "Whirling ithicles!" shrieked Sue. "What a thory that would be!"

       Aunt Mollie smiled at him. "Rob is a native son of the Golden State. Wait till he goes East. Then he will learn about our winters."

       "But I'm coming back to California," said Rob, decidedly.

       Aunt Mollie nodded her head at him. "Good boy!" Then she turned to the rest of us. "Well, nephews and nieces, shall I begin?"

       "Yes, yes," we all exclaimed.

       "The name of my story is 'Uncle Jim's Burglar,'" said Aunt Mollie, and as she spoke she seated herself in a big rocking-chair, and allowed the twins to scramble up on the arms of it. "When I was a child, everything I did was connected with my brother. I had no more character than a rabbit."

       "My wabbits fight like the mithchief!" volunteered Sue, in a low voice.

       Aunt Mollie burst into a merry laugh: "That was a wrong thing for me to say. I forgot how decided rabbits sometimes are."

       "Wabbits and wobbins," said Sue, "would wather fight than eat."

       Aunt Mollie laughed again, then she went on: "Jim knew that I loved him dearly, and he was very good to me. He always let me go to school with him, and when my class was dismissed I loitered about, waiting for him to accompany me home.

       "During the afternoon he played with boys, but, when his playtime was over and he had eaten his supper, he allowed me to sit with him until my bedtime came. He always prepared his lessons up in the garret. Mother had had one comer curtained off for him, and there he had a stove, and chairs, and table, and a good-sized bookcase.

       "He invariably read a story to me before I went to bed, not always a story from the bookcase that mother had provided for him. No, Jim had a way of getting stories of a most undesirable character. Certain men in large cities used to send to the girls and boys in our school circulars containing lists of books that could be bought for a few cents apiece. These books were great rubbish, and even in those his youthful days he knew that they were, for I remember how careful he was to keep them hidden from mother.

       "It's queer, nephews and nieces, how you have to pay up for anything that you do that's one bit off the straight line. That's why Uncle Jim wants me to tell you this story. These books I speak of were not prepared by persons who had the welfare of boys and girls at heart. The paper was cheap, the type was poor, the plots were trashy — you have noticed Uncle Jim's red eyes?"

       "Not weally wed," said Sue, remonstratingly, "only wose colour."

       Auntie pinched her cheek. "Well, child, they are weak, anyway, and uncle wants to warn you against poorly prepared books. Read only what your parents approve of — then you cannot go wrong.

       "Jim always hid his silly books when he heard mother coming. I aided and abetted him by my silence, but we were punished — we were punished.

       "I must tell you of one of the least mischievous of Jim's collection — one that took a great hold of him because something in it appealed to his generous nature. This story was about a lad called Dick, who was a cabin-boy on a large ship. The ship was wrecked, and only Dick and some lady passengers were saved. That the helpless women and one boy should be spared, and a crew of strong men should be drowned, did not seem to us at that time in any way remarkable.

       "In some astonishing manner Dick had managed to secure two revolvers, and, holding one in each hand, he disposed of the savages and protected the ladies in a way so exciting to Jim, that he could not sit still, but usually read this story pacing up and down the room.

       "Well, time went on, and just a Jim was at the height of his story-book fever, our father gave up his house in town and moved away out in the country near grandmother, to take up a small farm that your great-uncle Silas left when he came to California.

       "We moved in the winter-time, Rob, when the ground was covered with snow. Jim was wild with delight over the country. His eyes would grow round with mystery as he surveyed the pine-grove near us, and he said that when summer came he must have a camp there, and perhaps we should have adventures with Indians, such as befell the heroes in some of his stories.

       "Oh, dear, me — what silly fancies filled that dear boy's head. We often laugh at them now!"

       "But Indians are vewy thavage with white folkth," observed Sue, opening her eyes wide at Aunt Mollie.

       "Yes, dear, in olden times. Nowadays they are kinder, and we try to treat them well and give them school for their children. There were no wild Indian in Maine when Jim and I were children, and we might have found this out, if we had only talked things over with our mother.

       "But we did not talk to dear mother, so we went from bad to worse.

       "I must not forget to say that just before we moved to the country Jim was foolish enough to get a revolver. As soon as he heard we were going to move, he began getting money enough to buy it. He had a hard time, for we were not very well off in those days. Poor Jim, he even sold the mittens off his hands. In what deplorable way he got the revolver, and how he managed to hide it, and transport it without mother's knowledge, I do not know, but he did it.

       "Our family in the farmhouse was not a large one. Just father, mother, Jim, and I, and the baby, your mother, who was then only three years old.

       "The house was a long, low building, painted red, and standing some distance back from the road. It had a front door, and a side door, and behind the house stretched a woodshed and a small barn.

       "The day before Christmas, and about ten days after we had arrived, a man on horseback rode up to the side door, and told us that grandmother, who had been ill, had suddenly grown worse, and wished to see father and mother.

       "The man went away, and our parents got into the sleigh and drove off a quickly as they could. My mother took the baby — your mother — with her, and said that she would send a woman from one of the neighbouring houses to stay with us.

       "The woman told our dear mother that she would come right over to us, but, unfortunately, she slipped and twisted her foot in hurrying to get ready, so, of course, was obliged to stay at home.

       "We did not know this, and the morning passed away drearily enough. The house was in disorder, for mother had been getting ready for Christmas. It was painful to view these interrupted preparations, so Jim and I faint-heartedly finished putting up the evergreens in the parlour. Then we amused ourselves by trying to bake the mince pies. Here we were not successful. We burned them to a cinder.

       "The afternoon dragged by. Soon it would be dark, and the woman had not come; neither did our parents arrive, and, worst of all, Jim was acting so mysteriously that he almost drove me crazy. All the afternoon he had been going about with two reel spots on his cheeks. Then he kept pressing his lips together in such a provoking way that I got quite cross with him. He also went all around the house examining the fastenings of the doors and windows, till at last I was so puzzled that I could stand it no longer.

       "'Jim,' I said, 'what's the matter?'

       "'I would rather not tell you,' he replied.

       "'Ah, tell me. Jim,' I said, coaxingly. "'Will you promise not to be frightened?' he asked.

       "I promised, and, taking the milk-pail, he led the way to the barn. I had to wait till he finished milking the cow, and had fastened the barn door. Then he led the way to the henhouse, and, looking cautiously around in the gathering dusk, pointed to some white chalk-marks on the door.

       "'Those marks weren't there two days ago,' he said, with glittering eyes.

       "I was completely mystified.

       "'Come back to the house,' he said, in a low voice. 'I will explain there,' and, locking the doors behind us as we went, he beat a retreat to the kitchen fire.

       "When we were comfortably seated by it, he said, 'Don't be nervous, Mollie, I'll protect you.'

       "'I wish you would tell me what it is,' I said, tearfully.

       "'Child,' and he lowered his voice, 'they are going to attack this house to-night. Those chalk-marks that I discovered are private signs. They leave them wherever they go.'

       "'Who leaves them?' I exclaimed.

       "'Tramps and burglars. Don't you remember the tale of Bright-Eye the Burglar, and do you remember that father said some one had been sleeping in our barn night before last? They're probably keeping an eye on us. If any other tramps come along, they will join them. To-night will be their chance, for they will easily find out mother and father are away.'

       "'Jim,' I said, having hard work not to cry, 'let's go for some of the neighbours.'

       "'Too late,' he returned, 'the burglars are probably in the pine-woods, watching, and would catch us on the way there.'

       "At this I did cry outright, but Jim soon dried my tears.

       "He was brave, if he was misguided, and in intense admiration I sat gazing at his red cheek and bright eyes, while he told me in a manly way that he had resolved to die if necessary in defence of his father's property.

       "I shall never forget our wait for the burglars that night, as we sat closest the crackling-fire. Outside a storm rose, and the snow blew against the window. Jim and I alternately grew hot and cold as we listened.

       "When the clock struck eleven, Jim said, solemnly, 'It is time to make preparations.'

       "I had such entire confidence in him, that I never thought of questioning anything he did. Like a little dog, I followed him about the house, watching him lock doors, and store in out-of-the-way places the few valuables we possessed. Finally he shut all the doors, and went back to the kitchen.

       "Then he laid his hand on the big ring of the trap-door leading to the cellar, and threw it open.

       "I wondered what he was going to do, but my teeth were chattering so that I thought it unwise to attempt to frame a question.

       "Descending the short, steep step while I held the candle for him, Jim quickly surveyed the winter supplies about him. Then he drew immediately under the open door a tub of pickled pork, a few cabbages, and some potatoes, and, while he did so, I heard him mutter to himself something about 'breaking a fall.'

       "These preparations made, he skipped nimbly up the steps, and I watched him in amazement as, instead of dropping the door, he allowed it to remain open.

       "'If they're coming to-night, they'll soon be here,' he said. 'Mollie, put that candle on the window-ledge, and listen to me. Will you do just as I tell you?'

       "'Y-Yes,' I stammered.

       "'Then when I say "Extinguish!" do you put out the candle, and when I call out "Light!" do you be all ready to light it again. That is your duty. Stand well in the corner behind the table, so you won't get hurt. Now here is my trusty friend all ready for me,' and lovingly handling that wretched revolver, he laid it in a chair near the side door.

       "All the other chairs he placed against the wall, and threw the rag mats in a heap in the comer, making a clear course from the entrance to the trap-door.

       "Over by the window, my head rising above the table whenever my limbs did not double helplessly under me, I kept my astonished eyes on him.

       "Occasionally he let fall such bold sentences a 'The time draws near!' 'Stout hearts and ready hands.' and, at last, with the exclamation, 'I'll take an observation,' he approached the window.

       "With a cautious hand, he raised a corner of the white curtain, and opened the shutter.

       "He dropped it immediately, and, with a hurried 'Hush, Mollie — attend to your orders!' he sprang to his former position.

       "A minute later, there was a knock at the door, and some one rattled the latch.

       "'Extinguish!' cried Jim, and, leaping forward, he threw open the door.

       "Whether the snowy blast that came promptly sweeping in blew out the light, or whether I did it myself, I can never tell. I only know that suddenly there was darkness. and a rush of cold air in the kitchen — that I could dimly perceive a burly figure stepping in, and almost instantly disappearing. "Before I could get my breath, Jim had the trap-door shut clown, the table dragged over it, and was calling to me to light up.

       "In some way, I could not make connection between the match and the candle, so Jim sprang to my side and did it for me.

       "'Pile more furniture on the door,' he cried, 'while I lock up. There's probably another watching outside,' and he darted so rapidly about my mother's usually tidy kitchen, that in about two minutes he had stacked up in the middle of it a heap of articles higher than himself.

       "'Now,' he said, ' I'll frighten him and the fellow outside, too, if there happens to be one,' and he began to fire off his revolver.

       "I understood the affair now, and, as the burglar was securely fastened in the cellar, I came out from behind the table and shouted valiantly, 'Give it to him, Jim — shoot him!'

       "'I will not shed blood unnecessarily,' he vociferated. 'Light all the lamps in the house, Mollie. That will frighten the rest of the gang. Make all the noise you can.'

       "The lamps stood in a row on the kitchen mantelpiece. I got them all down, and, while Jim pranced about the kitchen kicking, stamping, firing his revolver, and chanting a kind of war-song, I soon had on the floor a series of illuminations like the footlights of a stage.

       "Just as I was going to carry the lamps to the other rooms of the house, there came, first a loud knocking, then an impatient kicking at the door.

       "'We're in a state of siege!' yelled Jim, whose blood was now thoroughly up, 'but the boy detective will be a match for ye all,' and he waved his revolver in the air.

       "Smash — we heard at the window, and glass and bits of broken shutter, impelled by some powerful hand, came flying into the room, while some one called in a loud voice, 'What in the name of common sense is going on? Let me in, you young rats. I'm your cousin Richard.'

       "Jim sank into a chair, his face as pale as ashes. Never as quick-witted as he was, I fancied that some of our relatives whom we had not seen had heard about the burglars, and had come to our rescue, so I joyfully unbolted the door.

       "A young man, six feet in height and powerfully built, entered the kitchen, stamping and shaking the snow from him.

       "'Hello, cousins!' he said, his eyes running in amazement around the disordered room, 'what kind of shines are you up to — and why didn't you let me in? Folks about here don't wait for a formal introduction in a snow-storm — where's father?'

       "We were both speechless.

       "'You don't seem overjoyed to see me,' he went on, sarcastically. 'I rather think by your actions that father did not tell you that your parents had sent word to us to come to them and bring you with us. Grandmother's worse.'

       "'Your father! ' gasped Jim.

       "'Yes, my father. Didn't he come in? Perhaps he's at the front door,' and the young man started to go through the house.

       "' Stop!' implored Jim. 'Your father's here.'

       "'Here — where?' and Richard eyed him as if he thought he was crazy.

       "'In — in the cellar,' and the words seemed to stick in Jim's throat.

       "'The cellar — what's he doing there?'

       "Jim spoke up like a man. 'I thought he was a burglar when he came, and I pushed him down.'

       "'You young rascal,' said Richard, and he began to throw the furniture off the cellar door with as much haste as Jim had put it on.

       "In two minutes we were all down in the cellar, bending over Uncle Harvey, who lay with his legs in the pickle-tub, and his head on the cabbages and potatoes.

       "'Are you hurt, father? ' asked Richard, in a choked voice.

       "Uncle Harvey groaned fearfully, but, on being raised to an upright position, discovered that, owing to his heavy wrappings, he had sustained no injury except a few bruises and a slight cut on his nose.

       "Richard's wrathful expression, as he emerged from the cellar, supporting his father, to the brightly lighted kitchen, filled me with dismay.

       "'Run, Jim!' I whispered, but I am thankful to say that he stood his ground.

       "'Now, what's the meaning of this?' asked Richard, while his father sat down in mother's armchair, and pressed a handkerchief against the cut on his nose. 'Explain quick!'

       "'I did explain!' said Jim. 'I found burglar's marks to-day, and I thought some one was going to attack us.'

       "'Burglars!' groaned Richard. 'Heavens and earth, there hasn't been such a thing heard of in these parts since I was born, and what do you mean by their marks?'

       "'Signs and writings that they leave for each other,' said Jim.

       "'Bah! stuff and nonsense. You've been reading dime-novels,' said Richard, disdainfully, 'now, haven't you?'

       "' Yes,' said Jim, 'I have.'

       "'You young simpleton — and you think the world is full of rogues and villains. The sooner you get that notion out of your head the better. And look here! ' he suddenly exclaimed, turning upon me, 'if that mite of a girl isn't handling a revolver!'

       "It was true. In my distress and bewilderment, I had picked up Jim's treasure, and was fingering it affectionately.

       "'You little witch,' said Cousin Richard, and he burst into a laugh. 'Here, give it to me. I'll hand it over to your father, and I rather guess he'll chuck it in the river rather than let it come into your hands again — well, I declare — it's enough to make a horse laugh. An infant carrying firearms,' and, sitting down in a chair, he began to laugh enjoyably.

       "There was something funny about the situation. Uncle Harvey, bulging and voluminous in his many wraps, sat in mother's chair and surveyed with a rueful face the extraordinary condition of things about him, brightly illuminated by my row's of lamps.

       "'You're not hurt, are you, father?' asked Richard, checking his tittering.

       "'No thank to them, if I'm not,' replied Uncle Harvey, indicating us, and carefully feeling the tip of his nose.

       "With a satisfied face, Richard turned to Jim. 'That is a pretty good bulk of a man. You must have been uncommon sneaky to get him off his feet.'

       "'I took him by surprise,' aid Jim. 'I ran at him as soon as he came inside the door — and I am sorry for it,' he added, firmly.

       "'Oh, you played the goat,' said Richard, and he stared at Jim solemnly for about five minutes.

       "Then he burst into a roar of laughter. I had never heard any one laugh like that before. His voice seemed to shake the house.

       "Jim never said a word, but Uncle Harvey got out of his chair with a gruff 'Come, let us go.'

       "'Excuse me, father," said Richard, wiping his eye, 'but I'm not done for. To think of this brace of young ones coming out to this prosperous settlement, and attacking the peaceful inhabitants with a revolver. Land alive! I wish grandmother wasn't so sick. She loves a joke!'

       "'Come on,' said Uncle Harvey, and he started for the door.

       "'Do you think it's safe to leave them alone?' asked Richard, looking as if he were reluctant to part from us.

       "'I sha'n't take them in my sleigh,' said Uncle Harvey, decidedly.

       "'We don't want to go,' muttered Jim, between his teeth.

       "'I'll come back for you,' said Richard, over his shoulder. 'I like you — you're gritty. But I'm afraid of her,' and he pretended to hide from me. 'She's a cowboy,' then he ran after his father.

       "As soon as he disappeared, Jim threw himself in a chair by the table and buried his face in his hands.

       "For hours he sat there, and I could not console him. It was nearly morning when we heard sleigh-bells, and my mother rushed into the room. I never was so glad of anything in my life. She threw her arms around Jim, then he gave way and cried as if his heart would break.

       "She didn't scold, and, looking back on her conduct, now that I am older, I am reminded of an expression in the Bible, 'As one whom his mother comforteth.'

       "When Jim got quieter, she brought out our Christmas presents, and while we were examining them father came in. Then a few hours later Cousin Richard drove up again to our side door. He brought joyful news. Grandmother had had a sudden tum for the better.

       "When she saw Uncle Harvey's cloudy face and disturbed manner, she made signs for some one to tell her what had happened.

       "Richard tried hard to be solemn. He knew that his dear grandmother was alarmingly ill with a gathering in her throat, but he must have given a comical twist to his word in speaking of us, for grandmother suddenly burst out laughing, the abscess broke, and her life was saved.

       "All the family appreciated Uncle Harvey, but he was terribly conceited, and had a great habit of boasting of thing that had never happened to him. He had never been cheated — never lost money — never been snubbed, and so on.

       "However, he bore no resentment against Jim after some time had passed, but Jim could not forgive himself, and for week afterward, to escape teasing, he would rush home from school as if something were after him.

       "One good thing came out of it. He wouldn't look at another book until mother had passed an opinion on it, and, let me see, that's about all, I think."

       "But the mark on the hen-house door?" said six eager voices.

       "Mother's record about the number of eggs laid," said a sudden familiar and beloved voice.

       There was a chorus of delighted shrieks. "Uncle Jim!" Then we rushed to meet him.

       He had crept quietly up the veranda steps, suit-case in hand.

       "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" he exclaimed, dropping his suit-case and embracing Aunt Mollie and nephews and nieces by the armful.

       Sue went down on her knees by the suitcase. "He'th brought uth prethenth. I hear them wattle!"

       Uncle Jim heard her. "Yes, lots of presents," and he uplifted his jolly voice to be heard above the din," a whole boxful down at the station. How de do, sister," and he stretched out a hand to mother, who ran out when she heard the noise.

       Oh, what a good Christmas we had that year — the best I think I ever had!

(THE END)