“Caught you then!” cried Burr major. “Come along, boys, old Senna’s going to show us his museum and his doctor’s shop.”
Mercer banged down the lid of the corn-bin, and was struggling hard to get the hasp over the staple and the padlock on, when Burr major seized him and dragged him away.
“No, no,” roared Mercer. “Here, Burr junior, catch hold.” He threw the padlock to me, but the key dropped out, and one of the boys pounced upon it, while Dicksee threw his arms round me and held me tight.
“No, you don’t,” he cried.
“That’s right,” said Burr major. “Hold him, boys. The artful beggars had sneaked up here to have a tuck-in. We’ll eat it all for them.”
“There’s nothing in the box—there’s nothing there!” cried Mercer, struggling vainly, but only to be dragged down on the floor.
“Here, two of you, come and sit on him,” said Burr major. “Hold that other beggar tight, Dicksee. Keep quiet, will you, or I will chuck you down the stairs.”
By that time, under our tyrant’s orders, two boys had come to Dicksee’s help, and had seized me by a wrist each, so that I was helpless.
“Now then,” continued Burr major, “we’ll just see what my gentleman keeps locked up here. He’s always sneaking up after something.”
“You let that box alone,” shouted Mercer, after an ineffective struggle to get free.