“Look here,” I said, as I sat on the bottom step. “Shall I undo it?”
Dogs must have a good deal of reason, for Piter leaped up and laid his head in my lap directly, holding it perfectly still while I unbuckled the strap collar, when he gave a sniff or two at my hands, licked them, and bounded off to have a regular good run all over the place before he came back and settled down close to me in the little office where I was trying to read.
Twelve o’clock at last, and I awoke Uncle Jack, who rose at once, fresh and clear as if he were amply rested, and soon after I was fast asleep, dreaming away and fancying I could hear the rattle and the throb of the train. Then I was talking to that man again, and then swinging out on the carriage-door with the wind rushing by, and the bluff man leaning out over me, and Piter on the carriage with him, barking at my aggressor, who was shrieking for mercy.
Then I was awake, to see that it was Uncle Jack who was leaning over me, and the window was open, admitting a stream of cold air and a curious yelling noise, mingled with the barking of a dog.
“What is the matter?” I cried.
“That’s what I want to know,” said Uncle Jack. “I went with a candle, but the wind puffed it out. Where did you put the lantern?”
“Lantern—lantern!” I said in a confused way, “did I have it?”
“Yes; you must have had it. Can’t you think? Gracious, what a noise! Piter must have got someone by the throat.”
“Oh, I know!” I cried as I grew more fully awake. “On the shelf in the entry.”
We ran down together, and a faint glow showed its whereabouts, still alight, but with the dark shade turned over the bull’s-eye.