No, it wasn’t the clock. Billy had kept his ears open too long not to know that.
Where was it? What was it? It seemed very near!
Billy looked under the desk. Nothing there but the waste basket.
His heart was going thump, thump. But, when a boy is standing by his job, he doesn’t stop for a thumping heart.
Billy didn’t. He took hold of the basket. It was very heavy. The ticking was very near.
Then Billy knew!
It was what Uncle John called an “infernal machine,” with clock works inside!
Billy dug down among the papers till he found the thing. He took it in both hands and pulled it out—it was a sort of box. He started for the door. All he could think of was that he must take the infernal thing away from Mr. Prescott’s desk.
Out he went with it. The old door was still open. Billy, holding the box in his arms, made a frantic dash for the door.
When he reached it, he leaned against the old beam and, gathering all his strength, threw the box over into the old dry ditch. He heard the box fall.